Fallen
by Da Fooz
Summary: What is the limit of what one person can do, to change the world around him for the better? And is it worth the sacrifice?
1. Book

Usual disclaimer. I do not own any rights to Batman or any other character that belongs to DC Comics. My personal characters belong to me, of course. I do not make money on this, nor do I plan to. This, in my mind, is visually similar to the mid 90's cartoon that fascinated me so much. Please read and review, that means a lot to me. Rock on!

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Chapter One – Book

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It all came down to leverage and logic, really. When to time the jump, what line to set up for that death defying swing over the rooftops, it was all about leverage and logic. Batman took a quick second look at the ledge coming close in front of him as he ran, just to be safe, and then plummeted down on a line that looked far too small to support such a weight and the pull it was about to go through. But the leverage and logistics were with him that evening, and Batman made a perfect landing on the roof of the building a block and a half away, not making a single sound in spite of the pebbled surface his feet contacted with.

Robin followed in his own swing and landed close by, not bothering with any of his usual showy rolls or flourishes. They were not on patrol, after all. Tonight was serious, and the information had come at a high cost to their knuckles and feet. Taking his cue from the taller man, they both were on their stomachs by the time they had made it to the edge of the building's roof. Pulling out a miniature microphone on an even smaller dart housing, Batman handed one of the ear pieces to Robin while loading the microphone into a dart blower. A deep breath and sudden release of air led to the microphone landing on the wall across from them, near street level. Holding the other ear piece to his cowl, the two caped men could then hear the conversation going on below in the grubby alley.

"I don't care how you found it, or how many throats you claim to have cut to acquire it, you miserable little wretch of low intelligence. I could care less, to be honest, as long as it is still in pristine condition. All I want to know is what amount you are asking for such an item of interest." The Scarecrow was busy trying to hustle some mid-level street punk by the sounds of it. The conversation continued for a bit longer, as Batman recorded it for later play-back. Not even bothering to glance over to Robin, he removed the earpiece from the side of his cowl and placed it in a holder on his utility belt, and pulled out a handful of stun pellets from a different place on the belt. Jumping in time with the tossing of the pellets, Batman made his appearance in his own trademarked style, kicking out to knock over the tall and gangly Scarecrow as Robin followed right behind, reaching out for the backpack resting over the street punk's shoulders as he swung to the ground level.

After rolling on the ground from the kick, Scarecrow came to a stop against the brick wall, reached into a pocket, and pulled out a pistol from his position now sitting on the ground. Not bothering with Batman, he turned the firearm on the punk, putting two neat shots into his chest. The smell of burnt gunpowder filled the chilled air. Then dropping the pistol, Crane took to his feet and darted for the streets. Robin reached for his headset to dial into the police scanner. "I'll call paramedics! Get that monster!" Robin turned to look back to Batman, but all he saw of the taller man was an edge of his cape, heading around the corner to the streets. "No prob, Robin, you've got it all covered. I'll give you an award later tonight," he said sarcastically to himself. He figured that after all of these years, he would be used to the silent treatment. Not bothering with any more comment, he turned his attention to the wounded punk, bracing a hand against the wounds to keep him from bleeding out before the ambulance made it's appearance.

Batman could move both silently and with speed when it was needed, and this was one of those times. Catching up with Scarecrow, he reached out and grabbed the edge of Crane's hood. Not bothering with a gentle tug or to haul him back into fist range, Batman pulled the fabric sharply to the left, sending the gangly man to the garbage littered pavement. The wails of an ambulance could already be heard on the chilly night air, heading in their direction. Crane rolled on the ground from the tug and toss, finally coming to a stop at the curb.

"Ah, the caped rodent. You are the most impossible man that it has been my misfortune to meet. I assume that this means yet another trip to Arkham?" Not bothering to answer, Batman pulled Scarecrow to his feet.

"You injured three asylum guards in your escape. You'll be in front of a judge in a day, then you will return to Arkham."

"Oh, they are so tough and drab there. They don't let me read my books, or continue my studies, or even entertain myself with the other prisoners. Surely you have enough brains under that cowl to see that stagnation is a disease for those of us that are truly geniuses." Crane blinked when Batman pulled out a set of handcuffs. "Really, this is totally useless. You catch me, they lock me back up in that boring asylum, I break out and continue my work. Then you show up yet again and the cycle repeats." Leaning close as he was restrained, Crane continued. "You do know the basic definition of insanity, my flying friend? Continuing the same actions, and actually expecting a different outcome."

Finishing the restraints, Batman spoke. "You could attempt the rehabilitation, and earn your freedom the right way." Giving the restraints one more look before sitting Crane on the curb, he gave way to a slight smile. "You are a genius, after all. At what point will you be willing to change for the better?"

Crane cackled at that. "Rehabilitation? That is for those that cannot find their way out of a wet paper bag. I am destined for greatness. You, my cloaked compatriot, are nothing more than a footnote in a future psychological thesis."

As the ambulance and police arrived, Scarecrow leaned close and murmured. "I am curious though. What are you afraid of, when the darkness comes to claim you each night? What is so satisfying about dressing like a giant winged rodent and puts you on the streets?" Mock seriously, he continued. "I certainly hope that your pet psychologist has looked into this little obsession of yours. This attitude could lead to a series of risky behavior, such as jumping off rooftops or driving dangerously through crowded city streets. Or it could represent a desire to commit slow suicide. Pick your definition, of course." Crane smiled under his hood. "The world might be better without you, but you know that saying about curiosity and cats. Do you have a death wish, Dark Knight?"

Robin helped the paramedics load the wounded punk into the ambulance and headed to the street with the flashing lights from the squad cars that had followed, to find Batman standing by Commissioner Gordon. An officer loaded Scarecrow into the back of one of the squad cars. Gordon took a look around, making sure that all was under control, then turned to Batman. "They really need to work on security at Arkham. You shouldn't have to run these patients down every time someone gets loose." Stubbing out his cigar, he continued. "What was his great scheme this time?"

Batman lifted the backpack from the ground where Robin had dropped it during the care for the wounded punk. "He seemed rather interested in acquiring whatever is inside this." Carefully unzipping it, he took a look inside, then pulled out what looked like...

"A book? All of this, over a moldy book? He must be off his rocker, to think that's important enough to break out of the asylum over." Gordon considered for a moment relighting his cigar, but decided against it. He settled for stuffing his hands into the pockets of the trench coat he was wearing, to ward of the bitter cold.

Robin chimed in. "Or at least off his rocker more than usual, for Crane. What it it, Batman?"

Dropping the backpack after checking if there was anything else in it, Batman turned the cover to the light. "The title is in Latin. The closest English translation would be 'Diabolic Fear.' I wonder..." Flipping through a few pages, he nodded to himself. "The book is in various languages, but Latin seems to be the most used. I would have to scan it, but it looks like real parchment was used." He closed the book, and took a long look at the cover again. "An old book on fear, handwritten. It fits with Scarecrow's admitted obsession on fear and it's outcomes." Nodding to Gordon, he continued. "I will look over it, and if no one comes forward to claim it, it will most likely be donated to the historical society."

Not bothering to say any more, Batman walked away, fired off a line, and once again took to the air. Shrugging to Gordon, Robin followed. To himself, Robin voiced his internal monologue. "Thanks for catching the bad guy, Bats. Thanks also for the info on the book. Time to go home, Robin, it's been a swell night."

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	2. Reading

Usual disclaimer. I don't own Batman or any characters from DC Comics, no money changed hands on this story, yadda yadda. Read and review!

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Chapter Two – Reading

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Alfred checked the thermometer under one of the lights in the Bat Cave. Raising an eyebrow, he turned to the sniffling patient that was sitting at the massive computer bank. "It is official, Master Bruce. Body aches, headache, stuffed nose, hacking cough, and a fever. You have the flu." Checking on the dinner that had been set out for Bruce, he noticed that there was little touched on the plate. "I do not know what you consider eating right to be lately, but this is pitiful, even for you." Retrieving the sandwich, he held it out.

Bruce waved his hand, attention focused on the printout coming from the computer. "Not really hungry, Alfred."

Setting the offending sandwich slice back on the counter, Alfred took a look over Bruce's shoulder. "And what is so important that it cannot wait until you are in better health to be sitting in a damp cave, breathing who knows what kinds of mold and mildew?"

Bruce looked up, cowl out of the way but still wearing the cape and body armor. It always struck Alfred that these were the moments when neither Bruce nor Batman were in complete control. He never knew which name to use, to which one was the one he was really talking to. The mask meant one, the open face could be the other. Alfred thought to himself, will the real Bruce Wayne please stand up?

Bruce was the one that answered this time. Motioning over to the three dimensional scan, he spoke. "The book is authentic, as far as the scan goes. The cover is leather, most likely cured in the fourteenth century. The cover is scuffed and worn, but the title is in gold embossing, hand stamped." Removing the book from the three dimensional scanner, he flipped through the pages before settling on the beginning of the book. "It's going to have to be translated by hand. That might take a while, with everything already on my plate."

Motioning to the half eaten dinner on the tray, Alfred spoke up. "Speaking of plates, if you do not make a dent in your meal, I will be forced to use alternative measures." Picking up the sandwich slice again, he pulled the book from Bruce's hands and replaced it with the sandwich.

Bruce shook his head for a moment, then a sneezing fit interrupted him. "You might be right on that front. I'll be upstairs in a few minutes, and I'll make another attempt on food. I hope that tonight I can still function well enough to go on patrol."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "If you are done down here, I expect to see you upstairs and tucked into bed post haste. Breathing this air cannot be good for someone already clogged up. It will do you no good if the criminal element can hear you coughing from the rooftops. You can bring your book to your bed, and do your translation from there, in the healthy and clean heat."

Holding up his hands in surrender, Bruce finished shedding the Batman uniform and headed upstairs, book in hand. Getting settled into the gigantic bed, Bruce pulled out the book and his laptop along with a ream of paper. Alfred silently slid a cup of hot chocolate onto the night table, opened the curtains, and made his way back to the kitchen.

Alfred returned about an hour later, and was pleased to find Bruce sound asleep with the book sitting on the sheets. Checking the mug of hot chocolate, he was pleased again to find that it was empty. Scooping up the book and setting it on one of the small tables in the room, he closed the curtains and dimmed the lights. Murmuring to himself, "Ah, the joys of drugging someone so he can get some much needed sleep." Pulling the covers up, he whispered, "Have a good nap, Master Bruce."

* * * * *

Bruce took a look at the bowl set before him on the dining tray. He then looked up at Alfred. "Chicken soup? I thought that was for colds, not the flu."

"It is still a viral infection, whether it is a cold or the flu. You need liquids, and the heat will do your insides some good." Setting down a cup of coffee, Alfred continued. "And do not think that I will let you out of my sight for an evening patrol, with how well I can hear your lungs rattling from here. The flu can easily turn into pneumonia without proper treatment, especially when the sick person in this insists on sitting in a damp and chilly cave for hours at a time. On the other hand, it is not like you planned this. Should I call Dr. Thompson?"

Bruce picked up the cup of coffee, and took a sip before answering. "I'll stay in bed for two days, then I have to get back into my patrols. Here's to hoping that no one breaks out of Arkham in the next forty-eight hours." He glanced over at Alfred. "And please, don't drug me again. Whatever it was that you used, it's left a horrible taste in my mouth."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, but said nothing on that front, but motioned to the bowl of soup. "If you need anything more, I will be available. One thing about that nap of yours, it let me catch up on some of my own paperwork. Will that be all, Master Bruce?"

"That's all for now, Alfred. I'll eat and sleep, since that's all I'm good for right now."

"Very well. If you need anything, let me know." Alfred picked up the offending hot chocolate cup, and walked out of the bedroom. Bruce worked on the chicken soup, then turned his attention back to the book he had barely started translating before the drink had knocked him out earlier.

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The two men fell into a routine over the next two days. Alfred brought food on a regular basis, Bruce actually ate what was on his tray, and he spent the rest of the time translating the book that now had his complete attention. By the second evening, there were papers scattered all over the bed and night table, covered with pages of translations in various languages.

As Alfred picked up the tray that had the remains of lunch on it, he took a look at one of the stray pages on the table. Taking a moment to look it over, a shocked look passed over his face. "Master Bruce, this is some rather odd reading, even for Dr. Crane, if I am reading this right. How far have you gotten on the translation?"

Bruce looked up from his typing on the laptop. "I'm only about a fourth of the way through. As far as I can tell, this is a book on summoning your greatest fear, to overcome it through ritualistic methods. It's very similar to some other manuscripts from this time in the church's history. This would be considered a companion book to proper interrogation methods for the Burning Times." Motioning to the piles of handwritten translations, he continued. "The thing that bothers me about this book, is that it is completely serious in it's claims of summoning fear from diabolic sources. It gives step by step rituals, complete with what to write on your parchment and placement of candles."

Alfred set the paper back on the pile he had borrowed it from. "Oh my. Would it actually work?"

Bruce laughed. "I doubt it. I might have seen plenty of things that might be considered magic or ritual, but I sincerely doubt that there are demons in another realm just waiting for a chance to confront someone in a ritual space. This is most likely the rambling of a very degenerate monk, locked in a library for far too long with too little nutrition. It's of historical value, but there's no great monster waiting to claim anyone's soul for power." Bruce sighed. "There are plenty of human monsters out there that I've had to deal with. I don't want to believe that there's invisible monsters out there that I'll have to worry about as well."

"Yes, there are plenty of human aberrations out there to take care of, no need to borrow trouble. But it does explain why Dr. Crane would want that manuscript. After you finish translating it, what are your plans for the actual book?"

Bruce stretched in place, fighting back a yawn. "Most likely it'll end up with a historical society here in Gotham, if the legal owner can't be found. I just want to finish the translation, for my own curiosity to be honest. Then off it goes, hopefully to never trouble my life again." He shrugged, then shivered. "There are parts of this that are downright disgusting in it's details."

Alfred closed the book in Bruce's hand, and set it on the foot of the bed. "Then take a break from it, and get some sleep without that bouncing around in your skull. Your fever is down, and your coughing is getting better. Get one more night of rest, and we can see how tomorrow night will look for you to continue your one man mission in the saving of Gotham."

Bruce settled back into the covers, and sighed. "I know you don't completely agree with what I'm doing out there." He looked up to Alfred from his spot in the bed. "But I wouldn't change it. I'm more alive out there on those roof tops than I ever am being the spoiled rich brat."

"Get some sleep."

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	3. Control

Usual disclaimer. I do not own the rights to Batman or any other character from DC Comics. No money was made on this, nor do I plan to. I know that it has been moving slow, but I'm rolling now that the intro information is finally in place. It will hopefully get interesting in the next few chapters, if all goes as I have it planned out in my little noggin. There will be something cool pretty soon, and thanks for sticking with us this far for the meat of the story. Please read and review, let me know what you think!

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Chapter Three – Control

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Batman's patrol was silent that night, both to his help and annoyance. He was convinced that he was just not in the right place, so he went from roof top to the next building, not finding any trouble as far as he could hear or see. Finally Batman and Robin headed back to where they had parked the Batmobile, and slid into their respective seats. Clicking on the police scanner, Batman powered up the vehicle and the two took to the streets.

Robin looked over to Batman. "Silent night, huh Bats?"

"Too quiet." Batman took a look at the scanner again, almost glaring at it for it's silence.

"Hey, does that mean we can head back early? I skipped some studying to make it out tonight, and I really can't fake my way through history class again."

"No." Turning the wheel, they headed down another street. Robin sat back, and glanced at the roof of the Batmobile.

Finally, Robin spoke up again. "Look, there's nothing going on. Nothing on the police channels, nothing out of Arkham, nothing on the port channels, and nothing on the streets. It's just too cold for anyone to cause any trouble, in case you forgot that it's below freezing out there, with a serious wind chill. Even street hoods understand that it's too cold to be bad guys where we can find them."

"It's not that cold, that trouble can't happen out there. We're just missing it." Checking another readout, Batman sighed. "Though I will admit, it is rather cold out there."

Robin looked over to Batman. "A little cold? I'm giving thanks that I'm wearing thermal gloves tonight. And I think my toes went on strike about an hour ago. Let's go home, Bats. There's nothing going on tonight that the regular police can't handle."

Batman turned to say something, when the police scanner started chirping. "Two possibly three gunmen, at Third and Anderson. Bally Jewelry. Advising caution, Swat in route."

Robin sighed, and rubbed his hands together. "Wonderful, there are some goons that have no idea how much I could use a cup of coffee right about now."

Not bothering to answer, Batman turned the Batmobile down a side street, and headed to the scene. The giant tires held their grip on the mounting ice and sleet on the streets, and the two made record time to Third and Anderson. Parking out of sight in one of the ubiquitous alleys that seemed to be everywhere in Gotham, the top of the vehicle slid out of the way and the two headed to the back of the jewelry store. Not bothering with picking the lock, Batman lowered a shoulder and powered through the door, knocking one of the shooters to the floor as the thug was trying to head out of the building. Batman kept coming as the goon tried to bring around his pistol, but there was not enough time to aim. As Batman shouldered the thug to the ground, the pistol went off, the shot shattering one of the lights above.

Robin followed close behind, taking a moment to disarm the goon and cuff his hands behind his back. The others in the front of the store heard the door being busted open and the wild shot, and there was yelling as they pulled out their own firearms. The common phrase amongst them was, "It's the Bat! Get him fast!"

Two of the thugs headed into the conflict, but a third headed for the front of the store, hoping to get gone while the going was good. Robin snapped out a net line, and tossed it at the fleeing thug. The practiced move looked simple to accomplish, but the net spread while in the air, and wrapped around the fleeing goon's legs, sending him tumbling to the ground. As he hit the ground, he lost his grip on the pistol, and it skittered over the floor, ending up well out of hand reach.

As Robin turned back to Batman, he saw that one of the remaining two had already been knocked out, and was out cold on the floor. The final thug was in Batman's hands, and Robin could see that Bruce had the situation well in hand. Turning back to the front of the store, Robin could hear the calling sirens in the distance, as Gotham's finest were arriving on the scene. From behind him though, he heard a sound that more than disturbed him.

Batman was continuing to pound that remaining thug's face into the sheet rock, even though the goon had stopped resisting. Running to stop the taller man, Robin grabbed Batman's arm, stopping the latest swing of the mangled face into what remained of the wall. "Batman, he's out cold! Stop!" Robin reached out to stop Batman, grabbing one of Batman's arms before the next swing that would bounce the thug's head off the wall again.

Batman swung out his other arm and backhanded Robin, sending him to the floor. Batman gritted his teeth and seemed to hiss something, but he stopped pounding the unconscious thug into the wall. He dropped the unconscious thug to the ground, where he lay bleeding from multiple cuts on his face. Batman shuddered for a moment, hands clenching into fists, then stood upright and took a deep breath to calm himself. Reaching out, he offered a hand to Robin to help the younger man back to his feet. Robin kept his mouth shut for once, something close to shock flashing across his face.

The police arrived at that moment, distracting Robin from the strange behavior from Batman. The beaten face thug was loaded into an ambulance, while the other three were loaded into law enforcement vehicles for their trip to jail. Sergeant Bullock walked around the scene, taking notes and bullying the forensics team. Finally he made his way to Batman and Robin.

"Alright, we've got them locked up, except for that one that's on his was to the hospital. Care to elaborate how that guy's face looks like garbage?"

"He resisted."

Bullock shrugged at that. "Resisted is it? You can manage with your nifty belt supplies to knock out the Joker or Harley without a scratch on then, but a goon with a gun needs special attention? Come on, tell me another one, one more believable."

"He resisted."

"Sticking to the same story. Good for on the street, not so good in court. Well, you'd best make yourself scarce, before the lawyers show up. It's only gonna take one word from the right attorney, and we'll have to let them all go. Get out of here, you're taking up space." Bullock pointedly turned his back on the two, and started griping at the forensic team again.

Not saying another word, Batman headed out of the store, back to the Batmobile. With a click of a button on the side of his glove, the top slid open on the vehicle, and the two climbed in. The top slid closed at the touch of another control on the on-board computer, and the engine fired up. Batman steered the car into traffic, and started the drive back home.

"Bats, what the Hell was that back there?"

"What do you mean?" Batman kept his eyes on the road, as they left the city proper and headed onto the tree lined secondary road that would eventually get them to the Bat Cave.

Robin shifted in his seat, looking for the right words. Finally, he spoke again. "I've seen you mad, grumpy, and even pissed off. What happened tonight was none of those. You were out of control. What would you've done to that guy, if no one stopped you when I did?"

Batman sighed, and checked the police scanner in a quick glance. "I've been on edge, that's all. I just need some sleep. It's been a long week."

"Not good enough, Bruce. You were out to kill that guy, and don't think I've forgotten my sudden meeting with the floor. Those were just common criminals, they were out for a quick buck, that's all. You need more than a vacation, if this is how you're going to handle shit like this."

"Watch the language."

"Watch your actions. There are enough people out there in the justice system looking for a reason to shut us down. Don't give them more ammo, alright?"

"I'll get some sleep, later. Problem solved."

Robin turned back to looking out the side window, and shrugged. "And don't bounce me off any more floors or walls, alright?"

Batman sighed. "Sorry."

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	4. Skin

Usual disclaimer, I don't own rights to these characters, I made no money on this, yadda. Have fun reading!

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Chapter Four – Skin

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Bruce stood under the scalding hot water, letting it wash away the grit from the workout room, but it didn't seem to him that he was actually getting clean. Scrubbing did not help, and the water simply could not be turned up any higher. The last few nights had been without Robin, and Bruce was starting to admit to himself, his temper was getting out of control. The last meeting with the usual street level thugs had ended with two broken arms and one broken leg on the side of the bad guys, not mentioning that first night with the jewelry heist. Gordon had informed him that the thug in question was going to need reconstructive surgery on his face to fix the multiple fractures to the nose and cheekbones.

Giving up while still feeling grubby, he turned off the spray and opened the sliding glass door. Standing still for a moment, he breathed in the steamy air and then sighed. He was just tired, he figured, or frustrated. No matter how hard he worked, he couldn't seem to get the message across to those that were breaking the law. Stretching for a moment, he reached for a towel from the rack next to the shower, and stopped the motion when he saw something on his wrist.

Wiping the water from his face, he took a closer look. It appeared to him to be simply a rough patch of skin, no larger than a quarter. There was no discoloration and no itch, but it did not look exactly healthy either. Rubbing his fingers over it, there was a feeling of discarded snake skin on the spot. Bruce knew that trying to tell if there was any heat coming from the spot would be next to impossible after the heat of the shower, but he still placed the palm of his free hand over the strange spot. Then he raised an eyebrow. It felt cool to the touch, almost cold. There was no swelling as far as he could feel. The rough patch actually seemed to have less feeling, though he could feel his other hand on it quite well.

Shrugging, he continued his reach for the towels, and finished drying off before shrugging into a robe for the trip to the wardrobe room. There he found Alfred sorting through the rack of suits, humming to himself. "Ah, Master Bruce, there you are. You do realize that you will be late to the office, yet again?" Setting aside one of the pairs of slacks, he continued. "This might all be a facade to you, but there are still clocks around this house, if you care to take a glance at them now and again."

Bruce smiled. "If I show up to the office on time, they might thing that I actually cared about what goes on there. Not good for that mentioned facade of billionaire slacker." He pulled the sleeve of his robe out of the way, and motioned to the spot on his wrist. "Does this look like a rash or something to you?"

Alfred turned from his sorting and took a long look. "It could be a rash, from something touched or rubbed against. Have you changed the lining of your 'work' gloves in the last few days? Or started wearing a new watch to your day job? It could be an allergic reaction."

Bruce rolled the sleeve back down, and started getting dressed for the office. "I can't think of anything that would've caused it, and nothing is new in my gloves."

"It could simply be a reaction to the weather. It has been rather cold and damp in the area, especially when one person spends quite a bit of time sitting in this damp and moldy cave complex for hours at a time. What have you been doing down there the last week, that has your attention so deeply?"

Shrugging his shoulders into the suit jacket, Bruce answered. "I'm about halfway through translating that book that the Scarecrow was so interested in. I've gotten past the basic description of the ritual involved, and it's now covering the skills needed to negotiate with your particular inner fear demon." Pulling on a tie, he continued. "It's all fiction, of course. There are no demons, other than the ones our minds make to keep us working on ourselves. But it does make for some interesting reading." He sighed. "And I don't think the rash is from the cave. I've been down there days at a time before, and there was never a reaction like this on my skin."

Alfred gave him a long suffering look, but went to work on the tie for Bruce. "As you say, you have been down there for days before. I would recommend a good liberal use of skin lotion, and keep that mark out of the sun for a few days. If it is not gone in a day or two, have Dr. Thompson take a look at it, just for safety's sake."

"I can agree to that." Alfred finished with the tie, and motioned to one of the full length mirrors on the wall. Bruce took a token glance, and smiled. "Good enough for government work, I figure."

Alfred nodded. "I will bring the car around."

* * * * *

Bruce was asleep in front of the Bat Cave's computer where he had nodded off from the ongoing translation of the book, when a sharp pain in his leg jolted him awake. Convinced that there was some sort of insect or spider on his lower leg, he reached down to swat at it. What his hand felt led to a cold sweat.

Rolling the chair back from the computer, he lifted the robe out of the way to take a look, already knowing what he would find. The entire side of his lower leg was covered with the strange rash, but the moment he got a good look at it, the pain subsided. Running his hand over the strange texture, he could feel that it was cold and reptilian to the touch.

Standing up, he headed over to the medial center, and pulled out a biopsy pack. Not bothering with any numbing agent, he took a sample from both his wrist, where the rash had not gone away in a week, and one from his leg. Strangely, the needle did not hurt on either location. Setting the sample on a slide, he delicately set the slides into the computer scanner, and went back to the main part of the cave to wait for the analysis. After a few minutes, there was a small beep from the computer announcing that the scan of the material was completed.

It took Bruce half an hour of clicking keys, but there was nothing that he could find out of the ordinary. The scan assured him that it was not a fungal or bacterial infection, and that the genetics in the samples were indeed his. Another hour of tests left him with the feeling that he was chasing his own tail, as there was nothing out of the ordinary as far as the medical scan could prove or disprove. Running a blood test also gave back empty results.

Frustrated with the results from the various tests that revealed nothing out of the ordinary, Bruce headed back upstairs to his bedroom, to finally go to sleep in something more comfortable than a computer chair, and to bundle under covers. In the past two weeks he always felt a bit cold, though not to the point of uncomfortable chills. Turning off the bedside lamp and deciding to look at it with a fresh set of eyes in the morning, he settled under the covers and fell back asleep in less than ten minutes. If he dreamed, he did not remember it come the rising of the sun.

* * * * *

Sitting at his desk in the office, Bruce was listening with half an ear to the report that was coming from the conference call. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he motioned with a pen in the other hand, as though he was conducting an orchestra. The mid-level manager sitting across from him was answering the questions coming from the speaker phone, and he was trying not to get frustrated with the occasional question that Mr. Wayne would ask that proved, to him, that Mr. Wayne had no clue what was going on in his business dealings.

Finally the call ended, and Bruce shut off the speaker on the phone by poking the button with his pen. "Well, that was very informative, if a bit wordy. Is that all for today, I have a meeting with a tailor about some really nice slacks."

"That will cover it for today, Mr. Wayne. I'll leave you to your tailor." Picking up his notes from the one sided meeting, he headed for the door.

Bruce called out just before the manager got completely out the door. "Oh, I might be out of the office for a day or two. There's this great get together going on downtown this evening, and I really don't want to miss it. You can handle this, right?"

The manager fought back a sigh. "Yes, Mr. Wayne, my staff can cover this from our end. Have a good evening tonight." Then he headed out the door, back to his own office to complain to himself.

Bruce put down the pen, and tapped his fingers against the desk a few more times. The change in sound made him take interest. Holding out his hand so he could take a look, there was something new in his life that was not there a few minutes before.

His fingernails were now sharp, shaped like the beginnings of claws. They were the color of gunmetal gray as well. Taking a glance at his granite topped desk, he could see pinpoint marks in the surface where he had been tapping out a tune just a moment before.

* * * * *


	5. Dream

Disclaimer, ditto the earlier ones. Please read and review!

* * * * *

Chapter Five – Dream

* * * * *

Alfred opened the door and entered the bedroom, to find that Bruce had once again fallen asleep while translating the book that seemed to be his only pastime when not out on the streets or in the office. Setting the book to one side on a night table and saving the information on the nearby laptop, Alfred pulled up the covers and gathered together the papers that were scattered everywhere on the bed. Stacking them to one side, he turned off the lamp on the nearby table and pulled the covers over Bruce. Then he left the room, silently closing the door behind him to head to the kitchen.

* * * * *

Batman stood on the edge of a building rooftop, looking down on the city lights below his perch. The lights glimmered in the sleet that was falling over the city, giving the streets a dangerous gleam, both beautiful and deadly. There was nothing that gave it away, no motion or sound that could be picked up by any sense, but Batman turned around anyway at the presence of another standing in the darkness with him on that lonely rooftop..

There stood what appeared to be a carbon copy of him in his costume, except that the double was only in shades of gray. Narrowing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he took another moment to study this double before reaching for a batarang for defense. But his hands came back empty from the utility belt. Glancing down to his waist, he could see that his belt was missing. Something was wrong, he could feel it.

"In case you are wondering, this is a dream. You cannot hurt me, nor can your vaunted weapons and gadgets drive me off," spoke the apparition sharing the building with Batman.

"Who are you? And how do I know this is not some plot by someone that escaped out of Arkham? Is this another dream from the Mad Hatter?" Glancing to his now suddenly cold hands, he could see that his uniform was fading out of existence, leaving him standing there in a business suit as though he was taking a break from work in the office. Those clothes then faded out as well, leaving him standing in his bathrobe. Water was dripping from the hem as though he had taken a shower wile still dressed in the robe, leaving him chilled in the bitter wind. Looking around, the view of the city below was fading as well, the colors and lights running together like a watercolor left in the rain, the spaces filling with a complete lack of any color. After a few moments, all that was visible around Batman was the being across from him and the rooftop they were both standing on. Lines appeared on the ground they stood on, glowing with a blue light.

The being seemed to grow in Bruce's sight, though he could see no actual change in size. "Oh Bruce, if it was only so simple that it could all be solved by reason and logic. Logic, even for you, is not your strong suit. Humans think that because they are the top of the food chain, they are logical beings. That's far from the truth, you humans are all about sensations and feelings. You're more the silent emotional kind, out to solve the world's problems with brute force, instead of proper application of steady and gently change. It's that impatience that you people seem to have in abundance." The double took a long look at his own black gloves, then turned his gaze back to Bruce. "This all depends on lack of leverage and loss of logic, really."

"What does? What is depending on this loss of leverage and logic?"

"What are you willing to sacrifice, to have the power to make a change in this Gotham City you are so obsessed over?" The double continued to turn his glove back and forth, the material seeming to shimmer in the light that came from no known source. "What do you have in your possession that would be of interest to me?"

Bruce laughed. "I'm not going to cut a deal with some dream creature that most likely has it's existence to do with the reading I've been doing the last few weeks. I'm not that stupid. This is just a dream brought on by overworking and pieces of my life, there is no impact into the real waking world of anything that happens in my mind."

"Ah, that's the spirit! Never mind that thoughts rally are action in someone's mind, especially when the said mind in question is well trained in meditation and visualization. Don't bother that you've walked through those rituals in that little moldy book in your imagination. Light the candles, baby, and let's go to work." The being laughed, then turned serious. "I don't want your soul, let's get that straight right from the front of this discussion. Souls belong to their Original Owner, and a simple signing of paperwork or word of mouth, no matter how heartfelt or honest or how well phrased, does not change that soul's Possessor."

It was Bruce's turn to laugh. "If it's not souls that you're after, then what do I really have to offer that will catch your attention? And why me? I might be Batman in the waking world, but that's about it really. And I doubt that my fortune is what you're after. If you can see more than I ever could, then I doubt that physical currency is what you want from me."

"You have skin and flesh, blood and bones, an existence in a realm that I can only look at from behind the walls that divides this multiverse into it's basic parts. I ask nothing that you can't offer." The being grinned. "But I can't tell you what I want. That's against the rules, to be honest. I can give hints, I have already, but I am limited by the rules of this little game. So you have to figure it out, and offer what I want from you. And there is a time limit. When those candles burn down and out, so to speak, then the deal is no longer available. Lighting new candles, in return, will also do nothing. This is a one time deal. Consider it in that light, and hopefully your vaunted logic skills will give you the answer before that time limit is spent."

"And you didn't answer the other question. Why me?"

The being took a moment to glance around at the darkness that surrounded the two. "You have gumption, and strength of character. You are not afraid of me, as a second. I've done this song and dance before, and most can't make it this far in the conversation without their hair turning white or they wake up a gibbering wreck. You are secure in your being, and that is a rare thing in these times. We would make a good team, if our deal goes through. It also helps that you've been outside the rules of society for so long, that you've grown comfortable in the darkness in both the world and in your mind. You are already breaking the rules of your city. Can breaking another rule, this one metaphysical, really bother you?"

A strange look crossed over Bruce's face. "The skin rash. You're responsible for it."

"Indirectly, yes. You never bothered to check something on that book with your amazing scanners and computers and analysis. But that's besides the point. The rash will go away once you are no longer in direct contact with the book, given enough time for your body to recover. The clock it ticking, Dark Knight. Are you willing to cut a deal with your own inner darkness? How far are you willing to go, to make your Gotham City safe?" The being leaned forward. Bruce backed away a step, not sure what to expect. He could feel the breath of the being on his face, ice cold to the touch but there was no scent that he could name in that breath. "How far are you willing to go, to keep another child from seeing a family gunned down in cold blood, over a set of pearls or a pocket watch, a bundle of greenbacks or a nice leather coat?"

Bruce went back to standing his ground. "If you are part of me, then you know that answer. I am vengeance, I am the night. I would do anything to keep those children you speak of safe from the kind of life I had to lead after that one moment of time."

The being nodded. "I am part of you, in a way. And yes, you are honest on your answer. I can give you that power, to protect the innocent, if you can offer what I want. You have three nights. I'll be here, waiting for you in your dreams. Just let me know sometime in those three nights that we have a deal, and I can give you that power you so desperately crave."

"I just have to figure out what you want, and we can make this deal?"

The being nodded. "I can even answer questions, to a limited degree. You can ask them either out loud in your waking life, or here face to face for the next three nights. I can't tell you everything, I am limited on what I can say, but I can help in other ways. But alas, the sun is rising, and it's time to wake up for you. Have a good day, and I hope to see you tonight."

* * * * *

The dream in front of Bruce faded, and he woke up to the sound of Alfred pulling back the curtains of his bedroom. Alfred turned around at the sound of Bruce sitting up in bed. "Ah, good morning Master Bruce. Breakfast is in the study, when you're ready for it. Did you sleep well?"

Bruce sighed, and rubbed his eyes for a moment. "One could say I've slept well. To be honest though, I feel like I've been running all night." Bruce ran a hand through his mussed hair, wincing at the pull from a knot. "If you were offered a deal, a bad deal at that, for the power to fix something, would you take it?"

"Possibly, considering what I would have to sacrifice to receive that deal. A disturbing dream last night, Master Bruce?"

"An interesting one. My subconscious cooked up something that disturbed me. But it's all in my head, all in dreams and nightmares."

Alfred turned back to the curtains, finishing the task. "They're only dreams and nightmares, Master Bruce. Lucky for all of us, there's no impact on the waking world."

* * * * *


	6. Questions

Usual disclaimer, I have no legal right to Batman and company, and I make no money on this. Please read and review, I love feedback.

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Chapter Six – Questions

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Robin found Batman in the Bat Cave, in front of the computer bank once again. This was usually nothing new, after a night on the streets. What was odd to Robin was the murmuring that was coming from Bruce as he clicked keys on the keyboard. Reaching over to a table, he grabbed a mug of hot chocolate and headed over to Batman.

"You're not one for internal monologues where others can hear them. Questioning the contents of the universe in your spare time, or practicing your time on the stand in the near future? You did manage to completely mangle that guy that was working with the Mad Hatter earlier this evening." He took a sip of the drink, then continued. "Look, I know you're under a lot of stress, but there's going to be Hell to pay from the judicial system if you keep messing up the defendants before they make it to court."

Batman did not turn around, but he did sigh. "It's just pressure."

"Yeah, pressure does strange things to people, and though you might doubt it, you are human. But seriously. Are you alright? You seemed kind of distracted tonight. Something you can talk about?"

"Maybe a fresh set of eyes might see something I'm missing." Bruce leaned back in the computer chair, and took a moment to gather his thoughts. "If you were offered a deal, and you knew it was a bad idea, but it could change things for the better, would you take it?"

Robin perched on the edge of a table, and thought for a moment. "What kind of deal?"

"One of those that you knew was a bad idea. Hypothetically speaking, you knew it would cost you something precious, but could make it possible to fix something wrong with the society around you. Something that would make a difference in the world around you, or at least your little section of it."

"Then I would want to read the fine print on this deal, and I would debate if it was really worth it. To use your own hypothetical reasoning, it would depend on if the change was enough to make the sacrifice worth it, and if you were really willing to give up that one thing that's important enough to you." Robin took a sip of his drink, then continued. "I don't know if I could go through with that kind of deal. There are nights when I'd love to have not lost my parents, but then again, I'm pretty content with the life I've got now. I wouldn't have met you, I wouldn't have become Robin, and my life would not be the one I'm satisfied with now. No matter how much you want to change the past, it also makes you who you are now."

Batman pulled back the cowl of his costume, and rubbed his eyes. "Nothing that would change the past. But if that deal gave you the power to keep that same horror from happening to another family, just one child and family, would it be worth it?"

"Bats, you already made that choice years ago. You've sacrificed the possibility of a regular life, and you've paid for it in blood, broken bones, and a broken life. What else would be worth changing what's already been given? How much can any one man give, to make a difference? Your company donates millions to worthy causes, you risk life and limb every night you're on the streets, and other than a tiny circle of friends in the know, you've got no one in your life. Selena Kyle does not count as a sweetheart, in case that's what you're wondering."

"My childhood is gone. You are right, I'm pretty much alone most of the time. I've seen the scans, seen the broken bones and lost blood. But to save another child, so he or she doesn't have to live in an empty home, I don't know what I'd do to keep that one child from that kind of empty life." Bruce picked up a cup of coffee, and took a long drink. Then he continued. "That's the question, really. What is it worth to me, to save another? Not just another round up of the scum in this city, or keeping the inmates at Arkham behind bars and hopefully rehabilitated."

Robin set down the now empty mug. "You've given more than your fair share, Bats. You've given more than anyone has ever asked of you. Your shoulders might be broad, but there comes a time when you have to sit back and realize that there's only so much that one person can give, that one person can sacrifice."

Robin motioned with one hand, encompassing the contents of the Bat Cave. "You've got bigger things to worry about, instead of staring at your navel. You've been breaking bones lately. It's not saying that those thugs and lowlifes don't deserve a bit of rough treatment, but you're coming close to that line that you taught me never to cross. You need a vacation from this life, if you want to keep your sanity and balance. I'm not talking about a few nights off, down here planning your next nifty bat weapon. I'm not talking about going to the beach with some bimbo. You need to step back and find your balance again, because you're starting to worry those that are close to you. And you can add me to that list of worried friends. Now, I'm going upstairs to warm up and get some sleep before I've got to head back to the university. This is the last night I can tag along for a couple weeks, we're getting ready for mid-terms at school. Goodnight, Bruce."

Robin changed out of his uniform and took the elevator up to the main mansion, leaving Batman sitting in the dark, the only light coming from the green glow of lights on the computer system. Bruce slowly leaned back, and continued to think. Finally he headed to the uniform area, and got dressed in his nightclothes. The rash on his leg had not spread, but it was also no better than a few days ago. The spot on his wrist was still there as well, along with the slight gray tint to his fingernails. Slipping into the silk nightclothes left him with little protection from the chill and damp of the cave, but in the last few weeks he really could not feel it anymore. It felt comfortable down in the Bat Cave now, soothing and calming.

Shaking his head, he went up to his bedroom, slid into the bed, and closed his eyes. It did not take long to fall asleep.

* * * * *

"Nothing beyond my ability to give, you said." Bruce stood in the darkness, aware that this was all a dream. Still, here he could feel the bitter cold better than he could when standing on rooftops in Gotham lately. Here, the cold was beyond bone chilling. It was soul chilling.

"That's correct. You have something that I want, very dear to my non beating heart. Something that I'd be willing to trade power and strength for, if you can offer it."

"It's not my soul. You can't take that, due to some rule in your existence."

"That too is correct. I can't claim souls. To be technical, I already have your soul, considering that we are part of each other in a philosophical meaning. I have no need for souls, considering my limited existence at this time in my being. I'm nothing more than part of you in a shape that you can comprehend in your dreams, a form given shape by your mind."

"Can you offer this power without me knowing what it is that you want?"

"No. It has to be understood on some level, and you don't have that understanding as of yet. I can't take what you do not have the ability to give without conscious thought of what you are offering. So, there is no 'go for it' without knowing what it is that I want for my part of the deal."

"Can I know what you are offering, in literal terms?"

"Again, no. I don't have to explain my side of the bargain. I choose the form it arrives in, though with training and effort you can harness even more power from it as time goes on. I will say this though. You have come up with some very good questions thus far. Worry less, however, with what is offered, but on what I am after in this discussion. You just wasted a night with questions that have no real bearing on the deal that is being offered. I've given you plenty of hints. As someone known as the Detective, you should have enough information to make a studied choice. The sun is rising, Batman. Time for me to go, and you to rise and shine. Tomorrow night is the last night of the offer. Then I fade back into your mind, never to be questioned again. Have a good day, Dark Knight."

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	7. Deal

Disclaimer. No money made, and I do not have rights to any of these characters. Have fun!

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Chapter Seven – Deal

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Alfred walked into the kitchen, to find Bruce staring into one of the refrigerators. "Is there something in particular that you are after, Master Bruce?" Bruce looked up for a moment, then closed the door to the fridge.

"I'm not going out tonight, and was curious what was for dinner tonight. I figured it would be interesting to eat at a regular time for a change."

"Ah, tonight was to be pheasant and stuffing, but if there is something more desired, I am willing to make an exchange to something more desirable." Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Is there a particular reason you are wearing gloves?"

"Cold hands lately. I think I'm finally chilled enough from the weather during my patrols, that I'm just cold, even in the heat of the house. That's all."

"That is never a good sign, Master Bruce. Perhaps a turn in the sauna will bring up your core temperature, and help out with the chills. You have plenty of time before dinner, if you care to heat up." Turning to one of the ovens, Alfred turned a knob to set the temperature for baking. "I am a bit behind schedule for a regular dinner time, as I was not expecting you to be here all evening. But no worry, I can get started now, and dinner will be served in record time."

Bruce nodded. "A turn in some heat will probably do me some good. Take what time you need for dinner, Alfred, I'm heading for the sauna."

* * * * *

Bruce was sweating from the heat, except where the rash was on his skin. A touch proved to him that those patches were staying cold to the touch. The gloves had been left in the dressing room, and even in the steam of the room he could see that the sharp and gray toned nails were still there as well. Leaning back against the wall while sitting, he started to clear his mind. Too much was going on, too much that seemed out of his control. Leaning forward for a moment, he cranked the dial that controlled the temperature in the wood lined room, then settled back on the wood bench he was sitting on. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths to get the heat and steam into his lungs before letting his breath out in one long sigh.

Bruce then heard a voice, one becoming rather familiar in the last few days. "Oh, this is nice and hot. I can feel it through you, just a touch of it. So nice, to feel." Bruce popped open his eyes and took a quick look around. The being's voice could be heard, but nothing was in the room with him according to his eyes.

"Don't bother looking for me, I'm not technically here, physically in the flesh and blood. But I am here enough that you can hear me. And for the record, your little recorders will not be able to pick out my voice. It's all in your head, Dark Knight."

Bruce returned to leaning back on the wall, then spoke. "I destroyed the book, but not before scanning for one thing that didn't cross my mind when it came into my possession. Who would check a book for it, unless it came from some place like Three Mile Island? It had traces of radiation in the ink, very odd for a historic book from what was most likely from a fourteenth century library. It is only in the ink, though the parchment has a bit of residual activity on it as well. That's what caused the skin reaction. There's not enough on me to need to go through radiation treatment, but my skin did react to it from prolonged exposure. The spot on the wrist, from holding the book, the strip on my leg for where I would set it before falling asleep. Given a few weeks, the traces should wear off me as well, and my skin should return to normal."

"You think you destroyed my book. I'm sure it burned rather well, in your eyes. All those pretty colors, dancing in your physical vision. But it just moved from one place to another, in fact. Some other poor sap will stumble across it one day, and they will have their chance to confront their own inner voice, and have their chance to cut their own deal."

"So the book is not gone forever. It just moved, to use your term."

"Oh, you can't ever completely destroy fear, no matter how much you would like to think otherwise. Someone will find it. Someone will read it. Someone might even be brave or stupid enough to enact the ritual it contains. But that person will not be talking to me. They have to face their own fear, their own turn in the eyes of that within them."

Bruce leaned back again, resting his head on the wood panel. "So it's all in my mind after all. Why should I cut a deal with something that's part of me anyway?"

"Simple. I can offer you power beyond your flesh. I might be part of you, but I am not completely a creation of your psyche. I am more than that. And tonight is your last chance to gain access to that power. I know you desire it on some level, or you'd never be able to summon me out to begin with."

"I think I know what you want. You've mentioned flesh and blood more than a few times." Bruce closed his eyes, wiping some of the sweat from his face. "You don't have a physical body, no real ability to touch the world I live in. You want that, as my sacrifice. Do you take me as stupid, to give up my own body?"

"It's not giving up anything. It's sharing. I want to feel, to touch, to eat and drink. Just give me a little room to touch your world, our world, this physical world, and I can give power that you can't even imagine." The being's voice filled with longing, the desire in it making Bruce look around one more time for a source of the voice. There was still nothing in sight. "Is that so much to ask for, a chance to actually have skin and bones? A chance to contact a world that I can only see through your eyes? I have feelings, though they are borrowed from you. I am not some demon from out in the multiverse. I am part of you, Dark Knight. I am the part of you that desires the city to be safe under my watchful eye, a city where those that would do wrong on their fellow citizen would know that I will stop them, by any means available."

"And if I agree?"

"Then, I share my power with you, as you share your contact with the world. Two beings, one body. I am always going to be part of you, there is no escape from that. This is just a chance to use that power of fear, of strength, to your city's betterment. I can touch the world, you can change it."

Bruce sighed. "What do I have to do, if I agree to this deal? Any certain actions, or rituals, to complete? I'm not going to kill or main any living being, human or otherwise."

"Oh no, there is no blood of another being that I require. The only one that might feel a bit of pain is you, as we merge, but that will be fleeting. There is a ritual, but nothing beyond you skill of understanding or ability to complete. You have everything needed in you possession right now, there's no reason we can't complete this in a few hours of time. The question remains, though, the question that brought me to you in the first place. This is your last night to make this decision, then I will fade to nothing more than a dream remembered at odd moments for the rest of your life. You might even convince yourself that it was all in your head, and that I never existed. Do you agree to our bargain?"

Bruce took a deep breath, and seemed to consider the question for a moment. Then he spoke clearly to the empty sauna. "Yes, I agree to this bargain."

"Then, go down to your Bat Cave, and dress yourself in your armored uniform. Head then to the deepest part of your cave. It is fitting that the Dark Knight be reborn in the darkness that spawned the two of us, wearing the skin that keeps you safe from the world."

* * * * *

* * * * *

Author's note. I am scrambling to write this as fast as my spell check and local live person beta reader can go. She's starting to shoot me dagger looks, and my poor heater out here where I am typing is out of fuel. I'm working as fast as possible, so please have patience. The muse is still with me, but my frozen fingers are starting to complain about the punishment. It's not supposed to be this cold outside in Central TX for crying out loud. Where is that global warming when you need it?

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	8. Change

Here we go, usual disclaimer. I made no money on this writing, and I do not own rights to Batman or any associated character from DC Comics.

Be warned that in this chapter and in the continuance from this point, there could be some moments that might be uncomfortable to some readers. Be advised, and do not be afraid to just stop reading if it bothers you. This is why I've rated this story mature. Not for language, but for content.+

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Chapter Eight – Change

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Bruce methodically donned his costume, taking time for all the little details that he usually just mindlessly went through while suiting up for a patrol. The feel of the fabric and built in Kevlar left him for once feeling exposed. Why the uniform? Why question at all? This was out of his control but Bruce felt more in control than he had for a long time. He was once again making a decision, not standing on the sidelines waiting for something to happen. It was all about control, when he got down to it. He made a decision, and didn't look back. Shaking his head, he sighed and spoke to the silence of the cave. "I'm making this choice, to save others from a fate worse than death. If this can save one life, then it is all worth it."

"Oh, it will be worth it, Dark Knight, for both of us. You won't regret this." The voice did not echo in the vastness of the cave. Batman took a moment to glance around the costume room, knowing he would see nothing, but not able to completely resist the urge to find the source of the voice.

"What do I do now?"

The voice laughed. "Quite simple. I know you've explored this cavern system quite extensively, and you know where the water gathers in the deepest grotto. Head there, and all will be done as we have agreed."

"No double cross. You will keep your end of the bargain."

The being laughed again. "Remember, Bruce, that part of me is part of you. You've never lied to yourself if you can manage it, so I don't plan to start doing that now. Now, get going, I'll meet you there. In the darkness."

Retrieving climbing rope from one of the storage compartments in the main part of the cave, Batman started his descent into the bowels of the cavern system. Soon the cut steps from earlier explorations gave way to the slick limestone and gravel that gritted under his booted feet. The light from the occupied part of the caves faded with each turn, leaving Batman in the complete darkness. Pulling a glow light from his utility belt, he continued further into the caverns.

The ground went from slick to muddy at Batman descended deeper into the ground. There was no sign of bats this deep underground, but the sound of water dripping filled the silence. A few splashes let him know that the mud still had puddles in it, and he continued down the narrow passage. Coming to the underground lake for only the second time in his life, the water reflected back the faint green glow of the light stick. Stubbing it out, knowing somehow that complete darkness would be better for this, he finally spoke again. "Alright, I'm down here, in the dark, like you wanted. What do I do now?"

"Just close your eyes, and let me do the heavy lifting, Dark Knight."

It started with a tingling of the fingers and toes, then spread up his arms and legs. This was not too bad, it felt more like all the muscles had fallen asleep and woke up at the same time. In the middle of a breath, it really began.

In an instant, horrific pain spread through his body, and it felt like to him that his bones were being pumped full of molten lead. The extreme pain drove him to his hands and knees, sending the breath in his lungs out of gritted teeth. His eyes burned in their sockets, and his skull felt like someone was slamming icepicks through his scalp and into his skull and brain. Unable to properly breathe, his air whistled through his mouth and into lungs that were so filled with cold that it burned.

Forcing his eyes open in spite of the pain, he got a good glance at his hands on the ground in front of him. There was a light glowing from the gloves, as they melded into his skin with an agony that almost convinced him to try to pull the material off his raw skin. "Cold... so cold... I never thought..."

"And that, my dear sucker, is your problem. You didn't think it all through, but it's too late now, the deal is signed, so to speak. Oh, you'll be warm enough in a few minutes. Just lay back and enjoy the show." This time the voice was not in his ears. It came from within, sounding like him yet with a gravel roughness that outdid his usual voice when he spoke as Batman. His mouth suddenly filled with blood, the iron taste coating his mouth and giving him reason to retch. Spitting out the blood along with the remaining contents of his stomach, several teeth soon were laying in the growing splatter of blood that he continued to spit out of his raw and bleeding mouth.

His legs twitched, as the sound of breaking bones filled the silence of the grotto. Flesh shredded under the the pressure, reshaping to a new form. His skin on his back ripped with the sound of wet cloth tearing, as muscles moved in directions not intended for humanity. Unable to resist anymore, Bruce threw back his head and let loose a lung wrenching shriek. The inhuman sound echoed through the still air, making it's way through the caverns and disturbing the numerous bats that called these depths their home.

* * * * *

Alfred checked the security system in the Bat Cave. The motion detectors had started their silent alarm a few minutes ago, but he could find no one in the monitored part of the cavern complex. Taking a glance around, he could see both the Batwing and Batmobile were still in place, the engines cool to the scanners. None of the dummy cars were missing either. The only thing out of place was that one of the uniforms was no longer in the costume area.

"Master Bruce? Are you down here? If this is a game of hide and seek, it tends to work out better if the other players know that the game is on." Clicking on the overhead lamps to lend more light, he took another look around. There were plenty of places to hide in the cavern complex that would be out of range of the sensors, but Alfred did not feel like playing this particular game. "Dinner is ready, in the main dining room, if you care to have something to eat. I am heading back up to the main house now, it's far too cold down here for me to play any games."

Turning to leave, Alfred could hear a strange hum coming from the overhead spotlights. Then the bulbs blew, all at once, plunging the Bat Cave into almost complete darkness other than the mild glow from the computer screen behind him. The bats were suddenly disturbed, and flew at breakneck speeds for the openings that led to the surface. Following the fleeing bats was a sound that Alfred had never heard, even in his time in service to Her Majesty.

It was a scream, of something in pain. He could not call it a someone, as the sound could not have possibly come from a human throat. Reaching for one of the emergency lanterns placed around the area, Alfred glanced around, trying to find the source of the twisted sound that had so disturbed the bats, not to mention how it disturbed his own peace of mind. Heading to one of the drop offs in the main cave, he pointed the lantern down into the inky darkness.

The bulb in it suddenly exploded, the sound of glass shards bouncing off the stone floor strangely echoing around Alfred. It was enough time though to see something in the darkness below, something that defied imagination. He took a few shaky steps back from the edge, giving plenty of room between him and whatever was coming up from the depths.

In the faint light, Alfred could see something that resembled a hand come up from the depths, and grab hold of the edge of the rock. It levered itself up, still wrapped in mostly darkness. Whatever it was, it smiled in the light, the flash of fanged teeth reflecting the glow of the monitors. Then it spoke, in a voice that seemed to come from the bowels of a nightmare disturbed the still air of the cavern.

"It's me, Alfred. It's all right now, everything is going to be fine now. I've come through on the other side, and I was strong enough to conquer it. I am the night, the darkness, and I will never harm those that are on the side of vengeance."

Alfred took another few steps back, as the entity in front of him spread it's wings, and took to the air, heading out of the cavern. There was the rustling of leather covered wings, then nothing. Whatever it was, it was no longer in the cave.

* * * * *


	9. Fall

Usual disclaimer. No money exchanged hands, and I have no legal right to Batman or affiliated characters from DC Comics. The slight mention of a Marvel character does not mean I have rights to that character, nor does this make this story into a crossover. Read on!

* * * * *

Chapter Nine – Fall

* * * * *

Alfred stood in the darkness for a few moments without moving, taking the time to calm his racing heart. What he had seen was beyond anything he could have imagined or dreaded in his life. Finally, he shakily found the emergency lighting switch, and clicked it on. The Bat Cave was filled with low level green lighting. Noting crazily that Bruce had insisted on green as it was less disturbing to the resident bats that shared his cave, he headed over the the land line phone, and dialed a number by memory.

It rang a few times, and Alfred was worried that an answering machine would pick up the call, considering the late hour, but instead a half asleep voice came over the line. "Hello?"

He let out a sigh of relief, and started talking. "This is Alfred, Master Grayson. I implore you, get to the mansion as fast as you can. I am not sure whom else to call at this moment, and to be honest, I do not wish to remain alone here tonight."

The voice was suddenly a lot more awake than a moment ago. "Is there something in the cave? Or is there something wrong with Bruce? Is he hurt or something?"

"Something would be the proper answer, if I had any clue what I saw here. Please, arrive in a hurry, this is something that I have no clue what to do about."

"I'll be there as fast as my bike can get me there, but remember, the roads are nothing but ice. My street bike can only go so fast. Do you need to call Dr. Thompson? Can she help?"

"I think we need something more along the lines of a priest."

"I'll be there soon. Hold the fort down until I arrive."

* * * * *

Batman soared through the icy winds over Gotham City, looking down on the lights and people with eyes that seemed to be carved out of rubies. He could hear each breath of the shoppers that were still out on the streets and going from store to store. Coming to a rest on an outcropping on the side of a building, he looked over the little people below him. Something told him that this was the right place, the place to begin his cleansing of the city.

Batman was rewarded with the sound of breaking glass, around a corner. Not bothering with a line to hold his weight, he once again took to the air, the freezing wind cold enough to kill parting in front of him. When his feet hit the dirty concrete, the lights around him started to fizzle, overloading from some power surge. Not bothering with the flashing lights, he entered the building that he had heard the breaking glass come from. The door in the back of the building opened in front of him with a thought, and he walked into the darkness that was only illuminated by emergency lamps faintly glowing.

It was one of the numerous antique glassware shops in this district, where the rich could spend a few thousand dollars on curios from around the world. Batman also knew that the vault housed pieces of antiquity that no amount of money could purchase, but could be borrowed for an evening's display if enough money was offered. Voices could be heard from the front of the display, one voice in particular standing out. Baring his fangs, Batman continued his measured walk to the front of the store. Once again as he passed them, the emergency lights flickered, then went dead.

"What is your intelligence, if you keep cutting the wrong lines to the cases? I want into the cases, not into the darkness. Did you, perchance, set of the silent alarm in your stupidity?"

A young voice answered from behind a counter. "Look, I've not cut a thing back here. I didn't kill the lights, not from here. It's probably from the ice load on the power lines outside. You did notice that it's freezing out there, and sleeting?"

There was a bang on a counter. "No more excuses, you moron. Open the cases, before Batman shows up and causes a ruckus. He seems to have a second sense in moments like this, and I don't care to have to leave town in a hurry yet again."

Batman chose that moment to speak up, from behind the figure doing all of the complaining. "Hello, Nygma. It's your lucky night, I didn't know you were back in town. Time to face the music. Time to face vengeance."

The man who coined himself as the Riddler turned around, and looked up. He had to look a bit more up than usual, even when facing off with Batman. As the criminal got a good look at Batman's visage, the blood fled from his face and left him with a leaden stomach. Trying to think clearly, he took a few steps backwards out of sheer terror.

"Ah, um, Batman. New costume? I must admit, the new cowl is rather disturbing." As Batman stepped further into the failing light, Nygma saw that, much to his unbelievable horror, it was more than a costume change that was facing him in that dark showroom floor. Batman's uniform fabric seemed more like a second skin than ever, with slight ridges that were similar to the texture of some sort of snake or reptile. The surface rippled in the dim illumination as Batman breathed, and the hands clenching inside the gauntlets were tipped with claws that absorbed the light.

The new cowl was the real shocker though. The cloth was even more like a reptile's skin than the new uniform, with eyes that had to be behind LED lights to get that shade of red to glow from the eye holes. There also had to be some sort of mouthpiece in place, that gave the illusion of a mouth full of fangs. Part of the Riddler wondered if that mouthpiece was the reason that Batman's voice was deeper than usual, until the man looming above him smiled. That was no mouthpiece, the Riddler's shocked eyes tried to tell him. Thankfully, the remaining light from inside the store took that moment to finish going out, saving Nygma from trying to understand what he was seeing in front of him.

"You've broken the law. You've evaded justice far too many times, Nygma, hurt too many people with your schemes and riddles. It's time to face the night. It's time to face vengeance." The thing that vaguely looked like Batman reached out, grabbing the Riddler by the coat front, and spread it's wings. Nygma had a moment of sheer terror, when he realized that yes, those were wings, not the usual cape, before his mind could no longer take what was going on. He passed out in the merciless grip, and did not even feel the bitter cold that was rising from Batman.

Batman took to the air, dodging out of sight of the coming police vehicles that were heading to the sight of the silent alarm by simply swinging around the side of a handy building. Heading up and out of the heart of the city, he knew where he was going unerringly. Heading for the east docks and the icy waters off those docks, Batman headed out a few miles before dropping the unconscious Nygma into the deathly cold waters. Then he turned his flight back to the city proper. There was bound to be others that were in need of a little corrective action, he mused to himself, not even bothering to watch the Riddler's plunge into the waters far below.

The shocking cold was enough to wake Nygma as he hit the surface, though he was more than a bit disoriented and swallowed more than a few mouthfuls of salt water. One of the dock workers had heard the splash, and was quickly on the radio, calling shore patrol for what he crazily thought was a ploy for some reality show. As he explained to the shore patrol what he heard and saw, he kept looking for the video cameras that he was sure were covering the area.

* * * * *

Robin took one more listen to the recording, not believing what he was hearing. The Bat Cave was set to record any voice within reach of the various microphones that were set around work stations and computers, so that Batman would not need to tote around a recorder for his studies or experiments.

"That's Bruce talking alright, but there's no reply. Even the best filter on the computer can't find an answering voice." Robin moved to another point on the recording, and ran that part through the computer as well. "And the voice you heard, after that god awful scream, and seeing that thing from the deep, that's Bruce as well. Your voice shows up there, in the recording. But I can understand why you thought it might to be someone else, or something else. It's his stress pattern, but if that's a normal Bruce, then I'll eat my cape."

Alfred was sitting off to one side, letting Robin work on the computer. He sighed, and wiped off his face from the combination of chill from the cave and sweat from nerves. "Was there anything on the video recording? Something anything like what I saw climb up the ledge?"

Robin fiddled with a menu on the computer for a moment, then pulled up the video feed. As it came into focus, the lights could be seen blowing out, sending shards of glass and flickers of light over the cavern. The video showed Alfred clearly with the night vision setting, but...

"That's it, just a blur in the vague shape of a man. I could run this through a few filters as well, but I don't think we're going to get a clear picture, no matter what I do."

At that moment, the phone line that connected to the police precinct started ringing. Alfred looked at Robin, who answered the call. "Robin here. What? No, Batman is not in that area. Yes, I will let him know as soon as I can. Yeah, I know. Goodbye." He looked over to Alfred, as he hung up the phone. "Something just dropped the Riddler into the waters off east dock. Something that can fly. They don't know if he'll recover from the hypothermia."

* * * * *


	10. Vengeance

Disclaimer thing. I have no legal rights to Batman and company, nor have I made any money on this. Please read and review, I am curious what you think of this story. Oh, and that mention of a Marvel character? It should be along any time now.

* * * * *

Chapter Ten – Vengeance

* * * * *

"What can we do, Master Grayson?" Alfred spoke into the silence that fell over the two of them after Robin placed the phone receiver back into it's cradle.

Robin sighed, and started looking through the storage area for one of the glider wings. "I don't really know, but sitting around here will solve nothing and just drive me up the nearest wall. I'm going out there to see if I can find him, and if necessary, stop him before someone dies." Pulling out the glider wing, he checked the fuel tanks for their levels. "There's about three hours of flight in one of these things. Hopefully it won't take that long for me to find Bruce." He started pulling the straps into place, until Alfred interrupted him.

"Might I recommend, changing into the arctic uniform? It is bitter cold out there, and I am sure that the wind chill while in the glider is going to make it that much worse."

"Good idea. And I'll be using one of the full face helmets. I'll be on our usual channel, you need to listen in, and let me know if you get a direction from someone. I'm sure that the Riddler is not going to be the only crook that ends up hurt. Keep an ear on the police scanner channels for me. It's not like I'm going to be able to change channels in mid-flight." Pulling the straps into place, he fastened them and headed to one of the launch areas in the cavern. Firing up the engine, Robin took to the air and headed out into the night sky.

"God speed, Robin." Alfred could feel his age as he walked over to the computer bank and took a seat. Turning on the police channels and the one connecting him to Robin's headset, he closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath. Then he turned his attention to the channels, hoping to find something that would help, part of him hoping that he found nothing so wrong that it could not be corrected.

* * * * *

Batman continued his flight, his eyes peering down on the city streets below him as he passed over them. The voice in the back of his head warned him that there was something going on, something that required his attention, but he could not find it. It was the sound of a scream that caught his attention, and he turned in mid-air to follow the sound as it echoed through the man made canyons.

He landed in an alley, seeing through the falling sleet further into the alley. Someone was holding a pistol on a woman. She was dressed in hooker chic with little consideration for the frigid weather, and she was being pushed around by a man that, to Batman's senses, reeked of alcohol and cocaine.

"Let me go! I don't have anything!" She struggled in the man's grasp, as he pulled on her purse. "I've cashed out for the night, Stevie! I don't have anything for you!"

"Oh, you'll give something up of value, you little tramp. You know what it's like to hold out on me." Backhanding her with the pistol, she fell to the littered concrete with her nose blossoming blood. Stevie started rummaging through her purse, not paying much attention to the crying prostitute on the ground on front of him. But he did look around when her crying went to screaming, and she struggled to her feet so she could run away.

"That is not the way to treat a lady, no matter what her occupation may be." Stevie knew that voice, he'd heard it enough times described by fellow street scum. It was deeper and rougher than he had imagined it to be, but no one else would be out on a night like this, defending hookers. Turning around slowly while dropping the purse, he fired a few shots at the approaching figure.

Time seemed to slow down to Stevie, he could see the four bullets sliding through the bitter air towards the thing that looked like Batman. As each bullet hit the chest, it shattered into slivers of lead, scattering over the garbage that was piled up on the ground. Batman grinned, showing a face full of fangs. "That won't work, not anymore."

"Who are you? What the fuck are you?" Stevie fell to his knees, as his heart started pounding like a jackhammer in his chest. It was worse than any cocaine rush, and he could literally hear his blood running though his skull.

"I am the night. I am vengeance."

"Shit, Johnny Blaze is vengeance. You, you're some freak!" Stevie tried to get back to his feet, but his muscles were not answering the directions of his brain. The horrific visage of a man walked closer, and held out a clawed hand. The hand opened, and it was full of white powder.

"This is your crime. This is the chemical that you use as an excuse for your actions." The powder blew away in streamers in the chilled wind. "Do you know how many are harmed, because of your desire for this drug? The children abandoned, the women beaten, over this damned chemical? It's time to get clean, Stevie. It's time for some rehab." Batman reached out for the man on the ground, and wrapped his hands around Stevie's upper arms. Then he let out a frozen breath, blowing on the face of the cocaine addict.

Powder flew everywhere, as the drug was removed from his blood through his pores. Stevie started screaming, as the detox symptoms took over his body. Dropping the now completely clean addict on the grimy concrete, Batman turned to the shocked and silent hooker.

"If you want this scum to live to see sunrise, I recommend that you inform the paramedics of his location." He started to walk away, then turned his head to the side. "After all, if you let him die in this alley, I'll come for you too eventually. Crime is crime. Keep your legs closed, or you're next." Batman walked a bit farther, then spread his wings and took to the winds again. The prostitute took a quick glance around, then reached for her abandoned purse. She had a call to make, and she only hoped that she could still get signal on her cellphone.

* * * * *

"Robin, there is a call for paramedics in the South District. Apparently the call was made by a prostitute that claims that someone that vaguely looked like Batman, but can fly, pulled all the drugs out of an addict. With his breath. That places Batman in the area you are about to fly through, approximately three blocks to the west. Please, be careful. We do not know all that he is capable of, at this time."

"I'm on it. I've got about two and a half hours before I have to head back to the Bat Cave for a refill. Here's to hoping I can get to him, before one of the police choppers can catch him." Robin glanced at the heads up display in his helmet, and sighed. "I know this sounds really bad, but I'm hoping he will get distracted, and stay in the same area for longer than five minutes at a time. He's on unlimited fuel, as far as we can tell, and that's a problem."

Alfred clicked on some keys, and pulled up on one of the monitors a map of Gotham. "I understand, Master Robin. It is unconscionable to hope for more news, considering what it represents, but I do understand. Should I inform the police about this problem?"

"Not yet. So far, he hasn't killed anyone. He crosses that line, and it's all over but the funny papers. Keep me posted."

"I shall." Alfred leaned back, and rubbed his eyes yet again. He was definitely feeling his age that night. To himself, "I shall watch as long as I am able to. I will not give up on him." Pulling up a different list on another monitor, Alfred starting reading through the list. He also found his hand reaching to the phone. He needed help, and he was realizing that him and Robin might not be enough this time around.

The phone rang for a few moments, then a sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Dr. Thompson, this is Alfred Pennyworth. We are in need of some assistance at the mansion."

"Is Bruce alright? Is he hurt?"

"In a way that I do not think we can cure with medical experience. But I could use someone to talk to down here."

"I'll be there as fast as the roads let me drive."

"Thank you. I'll be waiting for your arrival."

* * * * *


	11. Destruction

Disclaimer. I do not own Batman or his compatriots. I am not making any money on this. Original characters do, however, belong to me. Now, here we go again!

* * * * *

Chapter Eleven – Damaged

* * * * *

Robin headed to the location that Alfred had pinpointed, hoping for a miracle. What he found instead was a gathering of police and paramedics. Not bothering to land and waste precious fuel, he headed in what he hoped was the right direction. Scanning the air and ground below him, it was only a stoke of luck that he heard the beating of wings above him, seconds before something heavy crashed into him in his flight. It was enough time to duck his head, to keep it out of reach.

"A little cold for flying, Robin. You should be studying, those history exams won't vanish just because you want them to." The voice was right in Robin's ear, as Batman leaned over the side of one of the engines. Robin turned his head, to face something out of a nightmare. "I think you should head back to the Bat Cave, put my little toy back on it's shelf, and go get some sleep. All will be better in the morning."

"Tough luck, Bats. I'm out here trying to rescue your sorry ass, before someone shoots you down with a cruise missile. What in the world has happened to you?!" One of the twin engines flamed out, due to too much weight. It was only the slow beat of wings that kept the duo aloft now. "You look like something out of Man Bat's lab. What have you done to yourself, Bruce?"

The being that looked vaguely like Batman laughed. "No, no chemicals or genetics were involved in this. Now I can be what I need to be, to save Gotham from itself. I am the night, in every way possible. I am vengeance personified."

"You were justice. That not enough of an ego trip for you, to have the criminals in fear of your shadow? Not enough that there are people in this city that would give their lives to help you, if you only asked? Somewhere in that thick skull of yours, you know this is wrong. Bruce, come home, and let us help you out of this mess. There's bound to be a way we can put this all back together."

Batman narrowed ruby eyes. "Do you stand in my way, Robin?"

"In this case, yeah, I do."

Batman sighed. "Then you are no better than the rest." Letting go of the engine that had quit on Robin, he hovered in place as Robin plummeted to the ground far below, trying to ignite the second thruster. The trail of smoke from the working engine traced Robin's descent, with the occasional puff of smoke from the other engine.

"Robin! Fire up the other thruster!" Something of his old voice came through the mouth of fangs, and Batman found himself aiming his flight after the stricken glider. Grabbing hold of one of the delicate wings, the Kevlar and cloth construct gave way in his grasp, leaving him with nothing more than a handful of tatters. Diving after the falling glider, Batman reached out once again, this time snagging one of the harness straps. Trying to pull both of them from their fall, it was just not enough time to turn from the crash. The two landed in a wreck, pieces of the now destroyed glider flying all over the place. The remaining firing engine cut out with a small explosion, sending hot fuel over the duo.

Batman scrambled to his feet, and started clawing through the wreckage to free Robin before the fire had a chance to seriously burn the young man. He finally got Robin free, but the young man was out cold. Batman rested there for a moment, Robin held in his icy arms.

"I did this. I kicked him out of the sky. He was in my way, and that angered me. He could die, from my actions." Ice fell from his glowing ruby eyes, the only thing he had left in him for tears. "This is not acceptable. Batman does not, I do not... kill." Removing the full face helmet from Robin's head, Batman hoped it was not in such battered condition that Alfred could not hear him over the inset microphone.

"Alfred, if you can hear me... I'm bringing Robin home. He's been hurt, call Dr. Thompson."

Dropping the remains of the helmet to the ground without waiting for a reply from anyone at the other end, he gathered the broken young man to his arms, and took to the air with tiring wing beats. The sun was beginning to lighten the horizon.

* * * * *

Leslie Thompson leaned back from her seat next to Alfred in the Bat Cave. "That didn't sound anything like Bruce."

Alfred reached out and turned off the monitoring of both the police channels and the signal from the headset. "That is what I fear the most. That there is not enough of Master Bruce left in that monstrosity worth saving. This did not happen overnight. Ever since he started the translation of that book that he recovered from the Scarecrow, he has been on edge, barely in control. Tonight was just a culmination of that initial tainting."

"What book?" Leslie started glancing around, lifting files out of the way and poking into storage spaces. "If that book changed him, then perhaps it holds the key to get him back. Do you know if he finished the translation?"

"I do not even know where the book in question is located. As for the translation, it should have been loaded into the computer bank, since he was typing it out in one of the upstairs laptops. Let me see if I can find it." As Leslie continued to rummage, Alfred turned his attention back to the computer, trying to find the file in question. All he found was a title on a file. The file looked like...

"It has been corrupted. The computer did not save it right for some reason, and I think that is a good thing. If just reading that caused all of this with Master Bruce, I do not care to see what would greet me if I were to peruse it's pages."

Leslie turned from her search, and sighed. "I think you might be right, Alfred. There was something in the book that caused all this."

There was a sound from one of the hanger entrances on the level above them. It sounded like a gigantic bat, coming in from the cold outside. As it came closer, the overhead lights started to flicker. A strange scent floated on the still air of the Bat Cave, reminiscent of the smoke off a recently snuffed candle. The lights gave up the battle, but they merely went dark instead of exploding like last time. Something large moved in the faint glow of the green emergency lighting, something that was trowing off a trail of smoke. It dropped something, and immediately headed off the ledge. "Save him, from my mistake. Please." Then it vanished into the depths of the cavern system, leaving a trail of smoke behind it.

Dr. Thompson rushed over as the lights returned to their brightness. Robin was bloody and almost frozen. "Alfred, wheel that gurney over here! I need to get him into better light, before I do anything else." A tense half hour later, Leslie stretched out her back and turned to Alfred.

"He's stable, and doing as well as can be expected at this point. Two broken ribs, a stress fracture in his lower right leg, some torn muscles, and moderate lacerations to the upper chest and arms. The only problem I see is that he was chilled for quite some time. He's under the heating blanket, but he's going to need to be watched for a few more hours, before I can say for certain we've avoided hypothermia. He could wake up any time now, that helmet kept his skull cushioned from whatever impact there was."

Alfred breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank the Heavens, Dr. Thompson. I think it would do Master Bruce some good to know he did not kill the poor boy. The trick is, getting that message to wherever in the caverns he is hiding."

"What was the smoke that was coming off him? And the lights, why that moment to act up?"

"I truly do not know. When he left here, the lights all blew out from some sort of power surge. It took the automated repair system quite a while to replace the bulbs. For that to happen again, the power surge, it is coming from Batman. As for the smoke, I have my own ideas."

"And what would that be?"

"When I last spoke to him, he claimed to be the night. The sun was just over the horizon, when they arrived. I leave it at that."

Dr. Thompson sighed. "I need you to monitor Robin for a few hours. There's someone I need to see, that might be able to help us out with this. From what little I saw of Bruce, medical science isn't going to save him fro this." Picking up her bag, she headed for the stairs up to the main part of the mansion.

"You know as well as I, Master Bruce would not want to drag any more people into this. And there is that whole secret identity issue. Who could possibly be of help, and not be able to see the man behind that cowl?"

"I'm calling an old friend of mine. He used to be a priest. And lucky for us, he's blind as a bat."

* * * * *


	12. Padre

Usual disclaimer. I do not own Batman and company, I make no money doing this. I know that the chapters are not running through as fast. Got in contact with an old friend, we've been remembering the good times, so please forgive the delay. Gamerchic, you make me smile, even when you get me totally off topic. The original created character that shows up here does belong to me. There are some similarities to a Cthulhu character I ran for a few years locally, but some changes have been made from that basic construction. Please read on and enjoy as time permits. Reviews are nice too, if you so desire.

* * * * *

Chapter Twelve – Padre

* * * * *

It was a bright but still bitter cold morning, when Leslie climbed into her car and drove from Wayne Manor, back to Gotham City. The street lights had shut down for the night, and the public transit buses were already poking their way down the slick streets. The weather report on the local radio station warned that temperatures were unlikely to make it out of freezing for the day, and the coming night would be just as bad as the night before. Changing the channel on her radio over to soft classical, Leslie took to the streets carefully, nosing the car into traffic.

It was two hours later before she arrived in the suburb she was heading for. Here the streets were clean of both trash and traffic, most of the residents having already headed out to work that chill morning. Pulling into the parking lot of the location, she took a moment to check her footing before stepping out of the vehicle. Someone had recently salted the lot. Taking courage in hand, she headed up the stairs to the church, and opened one of the large wood double doors.

The scent of melting candles greeted Leslie as she entered the warm building. There were a few older ladies sitting in the pews, the sound of rosary beads clicking in their hands. Heading to one of the side halls, Dr. Thompson walked down the threadbare yet clean carpeting, to one of the offices. The door to the room she was heading for was open.

Knocking on the door frame, she spoke out. "Father Tyler? Are you free?"

A young man's voice answered from behind a bookcase. "I am free, in more ways than one, Leslie. But I think you're not being quite as literal as I feel right now." The man stepped from behind the towering bookcase, revealing him. His hair was past his waist, the color of crimson. Emerald green eyes that had once seen the world were cloudy, faint scars running over the eyelids and cheeks. Moving with the care that only the completely blind have in known surroundings, he sat down in a battered office chair, and motioned to another chair set to one side. "It's good to hear from you."

Leslie took the offered seat, and smiled. "It's good to talk to you again, Tyler. You've not called in a while, I was starting to worry about you out here."

"It's hard to call, when someone in office supply decides it's time to change the phone system, and not bother to walk me through were all the nifty buttons are located. And don't even ask about getting a cell phone. That would take a miracle that I don't think God will grace me with anytime soon." Leaning back in his chair, his hand carefully felt for his cup of coffee, and a battered pack of cigarettes sitting on the table next to him.

Leslie frowned. "Caffeine and nicotine is not the healthiest breakfast."

"I have no fear of cancer, and you should see my mountain dew consumption some time. I scoff in the general direction of danger, scoff scoff. That's me, living on the edge. It sure beats a nasty porn habit or that wicked cocaine, or doing really bad things to altar boys." Father Tyler leaned back and flicked his lighter, sending smoke from his mouth and nose. "If it's too much for you, there is a window in the back that gets opened for fresh air now and again."

Leslie sighed. "I'll be alright." Taking a deep breath, she was interrupted before she could continue.

"I know that sound. That's the sound of someone about to ask me a very big favor. Am I right on that?"

"Yes. There is a friend of mine, an old friend, that's in serious trouble. He can't reveal himself to the authorities, they'd just arrest him and send him to Arkham. I need the help of a priest."

"And I happened to be the top name on the Rolodex, right? I'm not one to confess to via an intermediary, I have to actually be present for it to count. For the record, e-mailing your confession does not mean that you are free and clear." Tapping the ashes into an empty soda can, Tyler continued. "And as for Arkham, I wouldn't send many people there. They have their own issues on that ground. That place needs a good old fashioned exorcism, not new flashy security to keep those monsters in there."

"Interesting that you would mention exorcism, Tyler. That might just be what my friend needs, to save what's left of him."

"Oh? Now, don't quote me on this, since the church is of the official stance that exorcisms are a waste of time, but my license for that was yanked years ago. Something about being blind, I believe. They thought that I needed to physically see the evil, to get rid of it. That and a priest knocking over their holy water at the wrong point would be embarrassing to the higher ups." Father Tyler motioned with the cigarette in his hand. "They keep an eye on me, so to speak. The senior priest here doesn't mind me taking confessions or answering questions for couples in therapy, but I'm not even allowed to stand in front of the altar anymore. Too many important people might be put off by a blind guy in charge of the sacrament cup."

Leslie leaned forward, and spoke. "You have something that most priests no longer have. You've seen that evil really does exist, and lived to tell about it. You've confronted your own fears, and overcome them, as well as any person ever can. I know what your life was like before your accident. I honestly believe that you have what it's going to take to get my friend back from the darkness that's eating him alive." Lowing her voice, she continued. "I also believe that you'll keep your word, and not tell anyone what you learn about my friend. He used to fight on the side of justice. Now, he needs our help, to find that within himself again."

Father Tyler thought for a few moments, then dropped the cigarette butt into the empty soda can. "Is he a man of faith?"

"No. Not really."

Tyler brightened. "Great! No need to explain much of what this would entail then. Saves me a lot of hassle. Give me about an hour, to get together what I'm going to need. Take a seat in the chapel." He grinned. "Talk with God. You'll probably need the strength for whatever it is I just volunteered for."

It took a bit longer than an hour, but soon after that Father Tyler was sitting in the passenger seat of Dr. Thompson's car, heading to meet destiny. His only complaint was that Leslie's choice in music was not to his tastes. "Oh, for some Iron Maiden right about now," he complained as the streets passed by. The ride took longer than Tyler was expecting, and he finally spoke up about it.

"Where exactly are we going, by the way? At this rate, we'll be out of the city limits before you stop. You haven't done a lot of turning, so we've mostly been traveling in a straight line." His hand was against the window, both feeling for the temperature and the vibration of the vehicle so he could guess their speed.

"It is technically out of Gotham's city limits. We're heading to Wayne Manor." Leslie turned onto the county road that would take them to their destination.

"Oh. Wonderful." Tyler put his hand back in his lap, and remained quiet for the rest of the drive, turning thoughts over in his head.

* * * * *


	13. Curse

Disclaimer. Except for original characters, I have no legal rights to Batman and other characters from DC Comics. Read on, the ride's in motion. And I do apologize for the horrendous delay in getting this finished, it's not fair to the few readers that have been interested to wait this long. RL came up and bit me, and it's only been recently that I had the gumption to consider writing again, let alone on a story that haunted me so much when I originally started it.

Chapter Thirteen – Curse

"We're here, Father Tyler." Leslie pulled the car to one side of the circular drive in front of Wayne Manor, and shut off the engine. Tyler sat still for a few more moments, then opened the passenger side door and stepped out into the bitter morning wind. He could hear few remaining leaves on the limbs rattling in the winds, and there was the scent of pine in the air. Leslie came around the side of the car, and took his arm. "It's a bit slick out here, I'll help you over the grounds."

"That would be a good idea, as I've no clue where the front door is to this place. Grab my pack from the backseat, please?" Dr. Thompson reached into the back of the car and retrieved the pack, then turned them towards the front entry. They were at the door when it swung open, revealing Alfred. "Ah, Dr. Thompson, you have returned. And who might this be, so I can offer a proper welcome?"

Leslie spoke up. "This is Father Tyler, an old friend of mine. He's a priest, and might be able to help us all out of this mess. He might need some assistance in getting around the Manor, and to other locations of priority."

Tyler grinned. "What she forgot to say is that I might need a guiding hand for some of this quite literally, as I am completely blind. Young adult accident with oncoming traffic." He offered out a hand. "Hope that I'm of some help here. By your voice, you must be Alfred, right? Leslie did at least tell me that there's a very small staff around here during the mornings."

Alfred took a breath, then accepted the offered hand. "During most hours, it is only myself in the Manor. Thank you for coming all this way on such short notice, Master Tyler."

Tyler raised an eyebrow, and offered up a fake pout. "Alright, that's going to have to fade out in a hurry. I'm either Tyler or Father Tyler. Some have even gotten away with calling me Padre, and were nice enough to let me know that it basically stands for the same thing. I'm no one's master, in this life or the next. You sound like a smart individual, give it a try. You'll be amazed how fast I answer to it."

Alfred offered a slight smile. "Father Tyler it is then, young sir."

Tyler smiled. "See, that's not too hard. Now, please lead on to the man, or woman, that's in need of some help." Leslie took a gentle hold on his arm, and all three headed into the warm twilight that made up the light in the main part of the Manor. The trio headed to the stairs, and after a few moments, Tyler found a bit of courage to head down the irregular steps.

"Not one to complain too much, but is there a reason that this particular stairway had to be so uneven? My feet are in petrification at the idea of this. I'm fine in my head, by the way, but this is really upsetting my knees and toes."

Alfred sighed, and responded. "It was done to unnerve anyone that found their way to this area of the Manor."

"Well, it's working." Tyler reached out and touched a nearby wall, running his hand over it for a moment. "That's bedrock, and we're heading down quite a ways. How far underground are we heading?"

Alfred took a quick glance over at Leslie, who shrugged. She answered him. "Not too much farther, and we'll be on the main platform down here. I don't know how we're going to get you to our patient, but I'm sure that we'll think of something."

Tyler smiled. "Oh, I'll get my subject out of wherever the hiding place might be, that's part of the job description. It's this mentioning of platforms that has me slightly giddy. Far enough up, that I could fall to my death, by chance?"

Alfred answered that particular question. "I am afraid so, Father Tyler. It was never designed for those that are... well, there is no railing... and there are some quite deep caverns under that location."

"I can keep from falling, Alfred." Turning his face one way, then another, he smiled. "There's a lot of open air in front of us. That platform you spoke of?"

"How can you tell, the air is not moving in any manner."

"Part of my charm. Now shoo you two, and find another spot to park that one that's sound asleep over there." Leslie and Alfred glanced at each other, then over to Robin where he was resting silently. He was not even snoring. Tyler held out his hand. "May I have my pack, Leslie? It's being testy, and hiding from me today." She placed it in the outstretched hand, and stepped back.

"Tyler, this is a bad idea. What happens if he attacks you, or shoves you over an edge? You need someone here, if only for guidance around."

"Don't worry. I can handle myself, and there is always that Guy Upstairs that will keep me as safe as I need to be. Now turn off all the lights, and leave me to my duty."

Alfred spoke up. "This is not your duty, young man."

Though the eyes stayed still, Tyler's face became quite serious. "Oh, yes it is. It's my duty and honor and many other words that mean everything to me. There is someone here that needs help. It's my meaning in life, to help where I can." Tyler reached out, and after a few tries found Alfred's arm. "I don't usually explain myself to others, but you're owed a bit. Bruce is a good soul, I know it. I want him back in this world, just as much as you want him here. I made vows, I made promises, and I plan to live a long time." He lowered his voice, and continued. "Now, head upstairs with the nice lady beside you and that young man sleeping over there, drink some tea, and cry a bit. Talk to God. Talk to friends. I'll do my best to put this all back to rights."

"He has been my friend for a lifetime, Father Tyler. I feel that, somehow, this is my fault, that I did not watch closely enough, ask enough questions, to stop this from happening."

"None of us can save those that have no desire to be saved. That's not the case here, not by any distance. We all come to a dark point in our lives, a point where we do rather foolish things to make it all make sense to us, to somehow save the world. Bruce made a decision, and it was a bad one, that's all. But a situation is never hopeless, never so far beyond God's hands that miracles can't happen. We are all children of that Higher Power, and we all are put here for a reason. Perhaps this is why I'm here, in this cavern, about to risk it all for someone I've never met in the flesh."

"He's hurting." Alfred stiffened his back, refusing to cry. Tyler smiled.

"And I plan to ease that pain. He's in good hands. And when I've finished, I expect both of you to make an appearance at the church of your upbringing to thank God personally. He is always listening, we just get too busy to hear Him." Softer, he continued. "Shoo. Go. You could use some caffeine. I'm sure a good British guy like you can brew up a magnificent batch of Earl Grey." He grinned. "Save me a cup, no sugar or lemon or honey, very chilled if you don't mind. This is going to be thirsty work."

Nodding, Alfred motioned over to the sleeping Grayson, and the two wheeled his bed to one of the elevators. It was not until they were in one of the studies sipping tea, that it dawned on Alfred. "Just how did he know that this was about Master Bruce?"

Leslie glanced up. "He knows he's at Wayne Manor. Most likely he figured it out from that. Tyler's been an odd man, since the accident that took his sight."

"Who's blind? And where's Bruce?" The two looked up from their teacups, so see a battered but dressed Grayson standing by the door.

"Dick, you need to be resting!" Exclaimed Leslie, as she rose to her feet. The bandages and cast on his leg didn't seem to be slowing him down, as he entered the study. Limping slightly, he motioned for her to sit, and pulled up his own battered chair.

"Can't sleep any more, too worried. Was it my imagination, or is there someone in the Bat Cave that's not supposed to be there?"

Alfred poured him a cup of the tea, and deftly wrapped a reading blanket over Dick's shoulders. "If you insist on being out of bed, you should at least stay warm."

"I'll be fine. Now, who's Tyler?"


	14. History

Disclaimer. I have no rights to Batman or any other DC Comics character. I make no cash on this.

Chapter Fourteen - History

Leslie looked at her tea as she continued. "He was such a smart child, and very precocious. He'd decided at the age of six that he was to be a priest, and he lived his life like he was. His family nodded and smiled, and let him play his little game." She sighed. "They didn't laugh and smile nearly as much when he left for his studies. His memory is excellent, he'd read something once and it was with him forever."

Dick spoke up. "Photographic memory, right?"

Dr. Thompson nodded. "Most likely, but it was more than what he could see. You could describe a room to him, and he could walk through it with his eyes closed and pick out the right book from the shelves. He could tell you a conversation, word by word, three years after hearing it. That child had a mind like a steel trap, nothing ever escaped."

Alfred poured a bit more tea into her cup. "And as for becoming a priest?"

"He was so excited, so thrilled. He was a grand priest, completely loyal to his faith and adopted family of the congregation. Then came the accident." She took a sip, then continued. "He was driving, one of only three passions he considered un-priestly. The other two were his smoking and caffeine. He simply nodded off at the wheel one night, and the car wandered into the oncoming lane. The other driver didn't see him in time, and they collided head on. The other driver was fine, just a bit battered, even though his truck was totaled. But Tyler..."

"His eyes." Dick took a sip of his own tea.

"By the time it was realized what was going on, and with them trying to save him from massive internal injuries, those glass shards in his face had done irreparable damage to his eyes. He lives in complete darkness now, no light or shadows. A man that could see the world with such detail can't see his own hands when he holds them in front of his face."

She sighed, then continued. "I was a friend of the family, and they called me in to see if anything could be done for him. It was hopeless, and I was so afraid for him. Many times when someone is disabled in some fashion, they end up rather bitter at life and those that are whole. He was never like that, not once. To him, this is a fine joke, something to laugh at. His church won't let him perform many of his duties, but he's still happy in his faith." There was a glimpse of a smile. "He's in charge of filing paperwork and typing out reports. No one dares pull him from the church library, and his typing is perfect once someone tells him the layout of the keyboard. He's also involved in marriage counseling, confessional, and generally helping those around him."

"How old is he? He sounds so old, to have lived through so much." Dick finished his tea, and set the cup aside.

"He's all of thirty-two years old. The accident was when he was twenty-three."

Alfred took that moment to speak up. "He is still a young man, in the great scheme of things. To be faithful to the world and his faith, after such a loss..." He glanced over to Dick, who was looking at his hands in rapt contemplation. "In that, he reminds me of two other people in my life that have suffered through their losses and found a way to survive." Grayson remained silent, but nodded slightly.

Leslie took a moment herself, then continued. "He's even sharper now. He has this way of finding his way around, by means that I've never understood. He touched that stone, turned his head, and immediately knew he was far underground. His sensitivity is such, from before the accident and now, that he's able to find his way around with very little difficulty." She smiled again. "In fact, the only time I've seen that man lost was in a shopping center, when a door he walked through by accident led to the walkways behind all the shops. He was panicked, and it took security finding me to talk to him, that he was willing to be calmed down. I personally think the echoes and strange doors boggled him for a moment, and he didn't know where to go anymore."

Alfred cleared his throat, then spoke. "Master Bruce has told me of those that, with no sense that can be quantified, can produce actions that seem impossible to modern science. "

"That's true, Alfred. He's spoken of martial artists that have such concentration, you'd think they could see everything, even in a pitch black room, to reach out and pick up something on a table, or on the floor." Grayson sighed, and ran a hand through his short hair. "I don't see though, how that's going to help him with Bruce. He's become something that's colder than the wind and weather outside the Manor."

Leslie smiled. "If anyone has enough faith in the impossible, it's Tyler. And we should trust him in his actions."

*memo-sorry for getting carried away with my original character, but some of this was important to me, in more ways than one. next chapter, back to the fun!


	15. Candle

Disclaimer - I make no money on this, and I have no official rights to Batman or any other DC Comics character that we stumble across. Some bad words in this section, if that offends, please head elsewhere for your fanfic fix. Also, very heavy religious references. This chapter is what's been holding me back from completion, but this is the way that the original dream rolled out to me. Thanks in advance for those that have stuck through this with me!

Chapter Fifteen - Candle

As the remaining lights faded, Tyler was left standing in complete darkness. Smiling to himself, he started humming a tune as he opened his pack and sat on the cold ground. "So you want to be a rock and roll star..." Pulling out a few items from the inside of the pack, a few more words escaped from him. "Just get an electric guitar and learn how to play..." Setting the items down by touch, he adjusted his seat on the cold stone and started to listen to the sounds of the caverns.

"Let's see here, ha ha, what is out there?" Turning his head this way and that, he continued to murmur to himself, barely audible even to his own ears. "Bats, lots of very unhappy bats. There's water dripping, that's comforting. A few lizards that wandered in, out of the cold but not happy about the lack of bugs. Humming from the electronics, that can't be helped. And way down deep... ah! There's our lucky customer. Poor guy, has no clue what he's done."

Reaching out and taking up one of the items on the ground, he held out a cross in front of him. "God, I'm going to need more than a bit of help with this lost soul. He's been in the dark too long, far too long, and he's going to be a real pain about this. In Your Name, I ask for Your help, and Your hand on both of us. Amen." Taking a breath, he said more. "Oh, and I'll be needing forgiveness for some of the bad words I'll most likely spout. Too much Megadeth on the iPod lately." Then he closed his eyes.

"Yo, Bruce! Get your sorry ass up here, we need to talk! That was not a request, that was a command! Up here, right now!" Nothing responded to his call, that for some reason never echoed. But he knew, he'd been heard by Bruce. He continued. "Yeah, I'm talking to you! I'm not one for long distance relationships, and we're going to be very close when this is all over. Now, haul your scaly carcass up here, and we can talk like civilized people!"

Tyler fell silent, and went back to listening. Too soft for normal ears to hear, there was movement in the abyss below. Scales rasping on rock, breathing that left frost on the walls. Then something came over the edge of the platform and stood, invisible in the complete dark of the caverns.

Tyler smiled, turning his head to hear better. "That was rather polite of you, I hate what yelling does to my throat. Now, please have a seat, and we can talk this through."

The being answered. "You don't belong here. Why did Alfred bring you down here? Has he betrayed me? If so, he will pay..."

"Oh, quit it you. Alfred cares for you like the son that he never had. And as for any others, they're doing this for your own good. Now, please sit, my neck is getting a crick."

The being grinned. "I take orders from no one. I am the night. I am vengeance. And you, little priest, are nothing, nothing at all."

Tyler reached out, and picked up a candle from the small stack of items removed from his pack. Snapping his fingers, the wick suddenly stuttered to life, filling the area with warm light. Batman took a step back, fearing the pain that the other lights had brought to him.

This light though, it did not burn his skin or blind his eyes with it's glare. Setting it down, Tyler leaned back to upright. "There we go, a bit of light. It does me no good, but I'm sure you could use a bit of light in your life right about now."

"How... how did you light that?"

Tyler grinned. "That's easy. I didn't. That snap was all for show. The Guy Upstairs lit it for me and you. Well, mostly for you, I can't see a single thing. But He knows, He is watching, and He is my light and my shield and rock and all sorts of things."

"If you can't see, how do you know it's lit in the first place?"

"I know. I believe. And that's good enough for me." Motioning to the ground, Tyler continued. "Please sit, and we can work this out all polite like. I'd rather do this that way, rather than the hard way. Bruce, you've made a bad decision. You've given into a Darkness that wants nothing more than to grind you up and spit you out, a broken man with nothing left in the world but pain and darkness. I can help you, you can stand in the light again like the strong person you are. Decisions are not forever, this can be fixed, and then we can go upstairs and have some tea."

"There is no way back, priest. There is only the night, and my place in it. I am the night, I am..."

"Yadda, heard that line already. Not wanting to do this the nice way? There is the hard way, but you'll come out the other end rather battered and bruised. Now, do you plan to deny me my cup of tea?" The being in front of him growled, and reached out with steel claws.

Only to hit something that sparkled with light, a light that hurt his eyes and body. Tyler stood, and pointed at Batman. In a voice that rang out with authority, he spoke. "You cannot touch those that believe. Now, I tried to offer you mercy, but you're being such a fucktard that you wouldn't know mercy if it smacked you across that fang filled face. So, we'll do this the hard way." Tyler opened his eyes, to reveal a light coming from them that pierced Batman's soul. "Very Old Testament style."

The caverns faded from view, and Batman found him standing in front of a cross. A very tall cross. Over the arms of the cross was draped a black cloth, and this almost brought tears of ice to his eyes. Tyler stood at the base of this monument, holding in his hands a cup. The light around them was blinding, but Batman could still somehow see.

"He gave everything for us! They took His life, and tossed Him in a hole in the ground to rot! They made Him carry His own cross to His place of death, do you understand? They tortured Him, and killed the only Innocent that has ever existed, or ever will!" Holding the cup in one hand, Tyler held out his other. In it were three nails.

"You wanted to save the world from itself, you selfish man. Well, here are your nails. Here is your cross. Are you worthy of being a sacrifice? Is your soul clean enough, strong enough, to make that kind of choice? Are you willing to die, knowing that there is no coming back from the cross alive?"

Batman cowered, the light lashing his skin as his mind was lashed from within. "I... I thought I could save everyone, at least in my city. I'm not worthy though. I'm useless, cursed, a waste of skin... I'm not man enough to save anyone."

Tyler smiled. "And that's all there is to it. None of us is worthy of being that sacrifice, and none of us will ever be worthy of that Sacrifice made all those years ago. We're merely human after all. But He has it in Him to forgive us, over and over. Now, you've admitted that you're not going up on that cross."

Placing an empty hand on Batman's shoulder, his voice softened. "But are you man enough to ask for forgiveness?" Tyler stood back, and the glaring light faded, the grounds around them shifting to the inside of a church, the light through the stained glass windows casting a rainbow of light over the duo. Batman looked up from his cowering, the beauty of the building tearing something loose from his soul. It hurt, but there was a point to the pain.

"Are you willing to ask for forgiveness, Bruce? It is there for all of us, if we only have the courage and humility to ask for it. If you are willing to be saved, please come to the altar, and confess your sins."

"To you?"

"No, to God. I don't have to hear a word of it. God knows what is on your soul, and He can forgive you. If you are willing to accept that Gift from Him."

Batman looked at his hands. The reptilian skin still covered them. The steel claws were still in place. Finally he sighed. "I'm not clean enough for that, either."

Tyler sighed in return. "That, I can help you with. But I have to skin you of that filth, so you can stand before Him in the skin He gifted you with at birth." Tyler sighed again. "This will hurt, but it's for a good cause." Reaching out with one hand, Batman blinked a few times at the silvery blade in the priest's hand. "Now, this is going to hurt, but you'll come out the other side much happier. Take a deep breath, Bruce..."

Bruce was not sure how long the screaming would last, and the pain was even beyond the agony of his first transformation, but in that timeless place, it finally ended. Raw and bleeding, Bruce staggered and crawled to the altar. Finding his voice took a few breaths. "I... I ask forgiveness. I beg forgiveness."

Tyler smiled, and the altar faded from view. Everything around them faded, finally leaving them in the caverns once again.

The only light came from a single candle, almost burned to the base.

"And in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, you are forgiven."

The candle stuttered for a moment, then went out in a pool of it's own wax.


	16. Tea

Disclaimer - I do not own any rights to Batman, or any other DC Comics character. I do have my rights to original characters from my own mind. Thanks for carrying along with me, and for infinite patience.

Chapter Sixteen - Tea

Alfred looked up from the dishes he was placing in the sink for a scrub at the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning around, he saw a very tired looking Father Tyler reaching for something to keep him on his feet. Moving with a speed that belied his age, Alfred reached out and caught the young man before he fell to the kitchen floor. Turning his head this way and that, Tyler smiled. "I'm a bit more worn than I figured, thanks for the help. Could I bother you for that cup of tea I asked you to set aside for me?" Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and Tyler went boneless in Alfred's arms.

"Dr. Thompson! Some assistance, please!" Luckily Leslie was not too far away, and heard the cries for help. As they shifted the young man to a couch in a nearby sitting room, he opened his eyes for a moment, then closed them.

"Oh, someone might want to throw some clothes on Bruce. He's on that platform, next to all of those humming electronics. But be gentle with the lights, he's been in the dark for a while. Tea?" Then he fell into a deep sleep. Leslie looked over at Alfred, who nodded and quickly headed out of the room. Leslie took a long look at Tyler, and checked both his breathing and pulse. He seemed merely exhausted, and in need of some good sleep.

"He's back? What happened down there, he looks totally beat." Dick came around a corner to look, dragging his foot in the brace Leslie had put on it earlier.

"He's handled our problem, and apparently it took quite a bit out of him. Now, let's give the child a chance to rest. Alfred might need help with Bruce."

With Bruce tucked into bed and Father Tyler recovered enough to request it, Leslie soon found herself driving back to Gotham City. He looked ragged around the edges and his skin was paler than usual, but otherwise there was no difference in the man that had occupied that seat in the car half a day ago. Humming to himself, she heard a few words escape him. "And in a week or two if you make the charts the girls will tear you apart..."

She smiled. "I remember that song, but that played years ago. A bit old for your generation, Father Tyler."

He laughed. "There is nothing wrong with the classics. After all, my Metallica now gets occasional play on the classics channel." Touching the glass next to him, he grinned. "Home soon, not soon enough."

"And Bruce?"

"That particular champion of justice should be fine and dandy, once he wakes up."

"What did you do? How did you save him from that... thing he had become?"

Tyler took his hand from the window, and smiled in her general direction. "I did nothing. He saved himself, with a little help from His Friend Above."

Several weeks later, Bruce was once again patrolling the city at night. He tried not to think about what had happened, what he had gone through. Robin had said nothing, and Alfred had fallen back into routine after a few days of clucking over him and stuffing all kinds of meals into him.

That evening, Bruce sat in the library, not thinking on much. Finally, he stood and ran his hands over the books on one shelf, looking for something particular. Finding the right book, he brought it down and headed over to one of the reading lamps.

It was a battered Bible, the cover about to fall off from use and wear. It had been his mother's book, and he could remember her reading chapters to him before bed, before the funny stories that Alfred would follow with. He ran a finger down the cover, feeling the wear, feeling in a fleeting way the touch of his mother.

Sitting down again, he flipped it open, and began to read. There was something in here for everyone, his mother had told him once.

~Finis~

Author's note - finally, the end of this story! thanks again for following me this far! there will be other stories, in other topics, but there's no continuance for this one anywhere in my mind. this one haunted me for half a year, and it feels good to be free.

for the record, this is not designed to convert or change anyone's view on faith or religion. this does not even come from my personal faith. this was a dream, and could be considered as such.


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